Tropical Storms, Tropical Drinks, Tropical Beaches. Or: Why Oaxaca is the best.

When we last left you, we had just checked into a hotel in Puebla. We spent our evening relaxing, enjoying internet access and a hot shower. The next morning we hopped on a local bus to the city center and spent the afternoon wandering around the zocalo (main plaza). [I naively thought I'd become a local Mexican driver over the last couple of weeks, acclimating myself to the nuances of driving here. I was sorely wrong; I realized this quickly as we rode on the public buses. In Puebla, they're essentially mini-buses, their front windshield awash in a variety of stickers announcing where they will head in a different fonts and colors.] Puebla is one of Mexico's colonial towns, so there are lots of beautiful churches, several ornate government buildings, and brightly painted storefronts/restaurants. We checked out a few of the local sites, but our timing was terrible. First we headed to the Puebla Cathedral, but mass was about to start, so we had to wait an hour and a half. Next we headed over to see the Biblioteca Palafoxiana, a library with some extremely old books. We were informed that it was currently closed for a private event, but we could come back later. We then headed to the other size of the zocalo to check out the Capilla del Rosario, a chapel completely covered with gold. It too was closed for mass and wasn't open to tourists until much later that afternoon. Nomadizens: 0, Puebla: 3.

By this time we were hungry and were excited to try Mole Poblano, Mexico's national dish, originating from Puebla. Mole sauce has a bit of cocoa, but is not sweet like chocolate. We had it served over chicken and it comes sprinkled with sesame seeds. We could see why it was famous – truly a delicious dish! We ordered horchata and our waiter succeeded in persuading us to order a pitcher. Pro tip: a pitcher of horchata is entirely too much for 2 people to drink! But we powered through what must have been about a liter of horchata each. (And it sloshed around our bellies the rest of the afternoon.) Street vendors are very persistent here in Mexico, and throughout our meal we were constantly interrupted by men, women, and even children selling everything from earrings to snacks to colored pencils. It was a rare for a vendor to approach you with a greeting and apologize up front for interrupting your meal. Usually the children appear out of nowhere and gently touch your arm before shoving their wares in your face. Most of the men and women would saunter towards our table, staring off into space, and mumble their schpeel. I would think this is not such a successful marketing strategy. [I think it's their embarrassment shining through]

We felt like taking a siesta after our decadent lunch, but soldered on to finally see some sights. We explored the beautiful cathedral. It was a huge space, very ornately decorated with statues, paintings, chapels, gold plating, etc. We were surprised to find the “choir loft” was a large section in the center of the sanctuary, lined with 40-some chairs, and then closed off with a gate. “They really lock them in there, eh?” Ike commented. [I also fail to understand how they were able to build the church so grandly, considering they're effectively removing 50% of the church space for parishioners and forcing another substantial percentage to have limited views of the sanctuary...On our way out, we also saw an amazing flier for an upcoming event, emblazoned with the several different vehicles up for sale and the smiling visages of two cardinals staring back at us.]

Modern and traditional art hanging out

Next up was to explore the library. By now it was open for visitors. With no signs stating otherwise, we assumed we could walk right in (the doors were open, after all) and take a look around. I paused in the doorway so Ike could snap a picture. And then the moment my foot crossed over the threshold, the man sitting inside the door yelled “TICKET!” and pointed to a small office around the corner. We paid the entrance fee and returned to the library. Every time someone would enter the library, he would go through the same process, yelling “TICKET!” and gesturing towards the office. Everyone was caught off guard like we were. You'd think they would put a small sign near the entrance, but maybe he enjoys scaring people. The library was beautiful, full of very old books and ornate woodwork. Most of the books are on shelves and so you can only see the spine of the book, and usually can't read the title or author. However, they had a special display while we were there, showcasing some famous ancient books on biology, astronomy, cartography, etc.

 Oh this? Just my copy of Copernicus, first edition. NBD.

So. Much. Vellum.

Pro-level photoshopping

By the time we were done browsing, our feet were tired from strolling around all day and our bellies were still very full. We decided to skip visiting the gold-plated chapel since we would have to wait nearly 2 more hours for it to reopen. Instead we walked over to a main street to catch a bus back to our hotel. As we were approaching the bus stop we saw our bus, the 72A, speed by the stop without stopping. Apparently someone has to flag the bus down for it to actually stop. It did stop at the next bus stop, about a block away. We took off running (horchata sloshing) to try to catch the bus, but the light changed from red to green as we were approaching, and off the bus went. A few short minutes later another 72A approached, so we hopped on, paid our fare, sat down, and held on for dear life. We ended up passing the first 72A before we arrived at our hotel. [The driver of this bus, incidentally, drove the bus like how I play racing games: foot and pedal on the floor, trying to max the speed at all times, and unclear where the button (or pedal) is for the clutch, instead opting to just ram the stick into the next gear, grinding be damned.]

The previous evening when we arrived at the hotel, we had taken our laundry to a nearby laundromat, which turned out to be in the middle of a shopping mall. It was pretty fun to see Ike carry our big bag of dirty laundry past all the stores, restaurants, and even a gym right in the middle of the mall. Self-serve laundromats are rare in Mexico (so we are told), so we left the laundry overnight. After returning from our day exploring downtown, we picked up the laundry and headed to the grocery store. Ike had the brilliant idea of putting the laundry bag in our cart while we shopped around, but the security guards told us that was not allowed. [Turns out they had a bag check at the front of the store (we came in the side) where we could have left it. Oh well.]

That night we stayed in a campground just outside of town. The drive from Puebla to Oaxaca, our next stop, was about 4 hours according to our GPS. While driving times were fairly accurate in Canada in the US, they have been way off in Mexico. We've learned to round up by 50-100%. We were the only ones in the RV park that night, so it was a quiet evening.

The next morning we hit the road after breaking camp. It was a very cloudy morning and we knew there was rain in the forecast. We made good time along the toll roads towards Oaxaca. As we approached the last toll, we saw a large crowd of people standing around the toll booths. “Uh oh.” As we approached we noticed there were no attendants in the booths, and the crowds of people held signs and were blocking the road. Their signs indicated they were from the student government of a university. Ike had read about some teachers and students burning a government building in the state of Guerrero (SW of Mexico City) in response to the disappearance of 45 students. We thought perhaps this protest was related to that conflict. They held out money jars and a few students climbed on our running boards. Ike continued to roll forward at a very slow pace and we decided not to roll our windows down. Best not to get involved in local politics, especially when we had very little information about the situation. The people blocking our path finally cleared as Ike continued to inch forward. One man slapped the side of our car as we made it past the crowd, then we were off. We've heard stories of roadblocks completely shutting off the road for hours at a time, so we definitely got off lucky.

The rain picked up as we approached Oaxaca. I pulled up the forecast to see how long the rain was expected. We were shocked to see rain forecast for the entire next week. Not a great situation. We pulled in to a gas station and filled up. I asked the attendant if it was supposed to rain all week, and she said yes, she had heard that. At this point we had to decide if we wanted to drive another 4 hours to the coast, where Google told us it would be hot and sunny all week, or if we wanted to stay in rainy Oaxaca and explore the city. Given that it was mid afternoon, we decided to stay in Oaxaca at least for the night. Tomorrow we would decide if we wanted to flee to the coast or stay in the city.

We planned to stay at a campground north of the city, run by an American, according to our guidebook. [who made his own Mezcal!] Our GPS tried to take us on a back road in which the pavement soon disintegrated into massive potholes, but after following it for nearly a mile we came upon a road closed sign. We headed back out to the main road and followed the directions provided in the guidebook. It was around 2:30pm, and we got stuck in traffic near an elementary school that was dismissing for the day. We inched our way along the streets and finally followed some narrow, winding roads that climbed north of the city. We were near the location of the campground, but did not see the sign. I called the phone number listed and we found out the campground no longer existed. What a shame! We were looking forward to the tranquilo campsite overlooking the city. The only other camping option we found in the city was a very run down RV park. We decided to give it a try. We pulled in and saw 2 other RVs parked there, so were hopeful. Soon we noticed all the windows were closed and someone had clearly left the rigs for the season. A man came out to talk to us and said yes, we could stay there, but the bathrooms no longer work, and it would still be 200 pesos ($15) to camp. It was definitely overpriced, but by this time it was late afternoon and still pouring down rain, and we really didn't have many other options. We pulled in and set in for a long, rainy night. We cooked up some fish and veggies in the back of our car, seeking shelter from the rain under our hatchback door. It's a glamorous life on the road, folks!

The next day we woke up and decided to walk into town to see the Oaxacan Regional Museum, despite the pouring down rain. We donned our rain jackets, but were soon drenched in the rain. [this was made up completely by the fact we saw a person walking downtown with a Hawkeye decal emblazoned upon their purse/satchel!] We arrived at the museum looking like a couple of drowned rats. We were happy to be under a solid roof and peeled off our soaked jackets. [Trying to find the museum was a bit of a pain, as it turned out it was connected to the church, another major tourist attraction. We hadn't noticed the museum at first because we'd arrived before it was open. The museum itself was beautiful; the building supposedly built by Hernan Cortez in the middle 1500's. The museum was fairly crap with it's attempt to be even-handed when discussing life for indigenous peoples after the Spanish arrived. That Knox education forever making the museum-going experience a critical one for me. I can't recall the exact wording, but the message was along the lines of, “people's lives changed greatly as they met the Spanish and more people became Catholic” or some garbage. Nevertheless, the museum had amazing exhibits of jewelry, some of the most incredible items included artwork carved into human bones.]

Hey Guys, could you, as a last request, bejewel my skull? Thanks.

We were both hungry and still chilled from the rain, so sought out a place with hot food. A traditional Oaxacan restaurant caught our eye. Ike had the mole amarillo and I ordered a chile relleno. Both were delicious, but more importantly, nice and warm. By this time our phone battery was nearly dead. We had searched for a hostel recommended online, but they were already full for the night. We decided to head back to our car, plug in the phone, and figure out our next move. One hostel mentioned free parking and a communal kitchen, but they didn't answer our phone calls. We decided to risk it and go ahead and drive into the city and see if they had space. Luckily, they did! And we are so glad, because we spent the next 3 nights enjoying dry beds and meeting new friends at Azul Cielo.

Rolling into the hostel, Pepe, the host, showed us around the open-air courtyard that we briskly ran past due to the rain. We made tentative eye-contact with the other guests, and he showed us to the dorm room we'd be staying in [half the price of the private room]. We thanked him, pulled our vehicle out front of the hostel, and began unloading. Staying in a hostel can always feel like the first day of college, but we found ourselves really enjoying it. We met lots of people staying there that we became fast friends with: Camilla and Heidi are two Brits hitchhiking through central America! Makes our trip look easy! T and Sean are a Kiwi and Aussie also making their way across Central America before heading up to the great white north. Angelina is visiting from Portugal and did a workshop on puppetry in Oaxaca with children. Aubrey, I was thinking of you!

“So....do we just toss the sauce in with chicken and that's it?” Bethany asked with furrowed brows. While we were in the grocery store near the hostel, we'd noticed they were selling local prepared Mole, the national dish of Mexico. It has cocoa in it, but isn't really sweet, but has a robust flavor to it. We picked some up and figured it wouldn't be that hard find a recipe later. The Mexican supermarket experience is like the US one, but on steroids. We were assaulted by sound as we arrived in the store; several stands throughout the building included people standing behind wares, with a tent and a microphone and loud dance music playing. As we passed it and found the mole, Bethany pulled me aside and whispered, “That woman is wearing an Iowa sweatshirt!” “Go talk to her!” I said. We made our way over and the woman informed us it was a gift, and that she had heard Iowa was beautiful. We encouraged her to visit some day. :)

 High School Spanish coming back to haunt us!

Decorations for Dia de los Muertos

“Oh, you just need to add chicken stock!” Lindsey informed us regarding our mole. She had extensive food service work and lent us a hand. The food was great! Heather and [forgive me guys!] were visiting from Montana.

“Could you move your vehicle quickly?” One of the hostel hosts asked me as we sat around the lounge the first night. I hopped up and walked towards the front as he explained to me that while it was totes safe to park out along the street, one of the hostel workers was going to pull her vehicle inside the main doors which made a little stall. Whatevs! That's fine. We get out, and the woman's car is right in front of mine. Since I'm in the hostel's 'No Parking' space where she'll need to pull in, the plan is to have her pull out, me pull forward. He's explaining this to me as the woman pulls out of the spot, and as I get ready to pull forward, a truck comes roaring up and starts to try and pull back into the spot. I had already started pulling forward though, and the host runs up to the man and frantically begins telling him that he cannot take the spot as I need to pull into it. The man listens to the host say this, and proceeds to keep backing up, eventually hitting our bull guard. Bethany and I looked at each other with flabbergasted faces and the host put his hands over his face, slowing dragging them down. I eventually backed up, let the man take the spot, and pulled out to let the woman inside, taking the original spot I had. I made sure to give the man who hit me an incredible death stare as he walked by. Frankly, I'm glad I didn't fly off the handle at him, as he lived next door to the hostel.

“Hey guys, if you like, you're welcome to cram into the back of our vehicle. It won't be comfortable, but it'll be free!” We told T and Sean. With the clearing weather [aka not actively raining] everyone was making plans to hit up the Zapotec ruins of Monte Alban in the mountains outside of Oaxaca. We made our way outside of town, with T and Sean being good sports about how uncomfortable the backseat was. :) Bethany and I've been using a free program called Maps.me that uses your phone's GPS. You download the maps on your own when you have internet and then you don't have to use data! We were using it to find our way up to Monte Alban, following the signs. We came to a Y and Bethany directed me off the paved road onto the dirt road. Seemed odd, but that's what the map said. We made our way along the rough road, but are eventually heading downhill, which seems totally wrong. We are in a little village, and realize that the town is called Monte Alban. We turn around, and Bethany zooms in on the map and goes, “Oh, right, there's the real place.” Scenic route!

Monte Alban is one of the most important MesoAmerican archaeological sites. Founded around 500 B.C., it was continually inhabited for over a thousand years. The civilizations ebbed and flowed through the centuries, with inhabitants often rebuilding over the existing habitations. Standing on top of the temples with a panoramic view of the surrounding valleys and hillsides, you quickly come to realize the value and strategic importance of the site, and why it was the center of power for the Zapotecs. Getting out early allowed us to beat the rush, and while no where near empty, we explored in relative peace. I was struck by how well you could hear voices across the central open plaza. While I imagine the plaza was full of merchants and people [it had over 40k at it's peak], it was hushed with fog while we walked around.

Note the valley in the background 

I hope you guys appreciate the polo look i have going on here

And I thought Japanese was hard...

Oaxaca is a cultural hotbed in southern Mexico, and we took full advantage of that the following day. We made our way to the pedestrian walk, near the markets, and began museum row, hitting up several art museums. The first we visited was dedicated to precolumbian art, filled entirely with a collection of art obtained by a famous Mexican artist from Oaxaca. The direction he took the museum was interesting: the focus for the pieces he'd obtained was to experience them solely as artistic designs, stripped of the cultural, religious, or social value attached to them as typically done in museums. It was staggering how vast his collection was, with hundreds of pieces, many of them in pristine condition. During the early 20^th century, when it was vogue for the rich to purchase pre-columbian artwork, he decided to build a collection and keep it where the art originated.

 Nightmare fuel

 Nothing creepy about carving a jawbone. Totally normal.

The central square of the old city, along the zocalo, is a large market. One section of the market is dedicated to food, and it was there that we enjoyed lunch. You just cram yourself in wherever there's room, and Bethany and I tried to do this, but the couple on the bench we were sitting at decided they weren't going to scoot over. So I spent the lunch with half my butt hanging off. Worth it for the $5 we paid for the full meal though.

We made our way to a modern art museum as well; modern art can be so hit or miss for me. On the one hand, it can be neat to see how people turn things into art, but on the other hand, it can sometimes be hard as hell to make sense of. This exhibit was in the former. Lots of cool juxtapositions of traditional Zapotec art covered with what's 'cool' in Modern Mexico: guns, cash, and scantily clad women.

'Somehow, when I heard 'Graphic Art Museum', I didn't picture this:”

Bethany and I made our way through the brief exhibit at the graphic art museum, which featured scientific drawings by a French naturalist who lived in Mexico during the late 19^th century. As you just saw, he also had a huge ass tarantula framed.

Another museum stop was the textile museum, housing a collection of native clothes and the stitch patterns collected by an American living in Oaxaca over 5 decades.  Naturally she went to UC Berkley.

Despite the fun we were having in Oaxaca, with the weather clearing up, we realized it was time to make our way to the coast, and our first beach that we could actually enjoy the water at! [Sorry Labrador, Newfoundland, British Columbia] The GPS said the drive down to the coast would be 3 ¼ hours, but Bethany and I knew better.  Zipolite, the beach we planed to head to, had a very simple review: "It's beautiful, but there's lots of nudists and people smoking weed as soon as they wake up. If you're cool with that, it's a great time.  We figured we could handle it.  We got on the road at 10, and hoped to be there before 5. Turned out to be the right call. While the weather had cleared up down in the valley, up in the mountains we encountered first mist, then rain, then a downpour. The road would abruptly switch from asphalt to dirt [mud], or bumpy gravel. Every car on the road had the same idea when approaching turns: “I sure as hell don't want to go off the edge! I'll take an inside track!” which meant you needed to be ready to jerk the wheel if you saw a car as you approached the apex that was halfway into your lane. We actually saw mud crumbling down a cliff side and pooling at the side of the road at one point, but thankfully no active mudslides. As we made our way through the 'downtown' of Puerto Angel [where the asphalt again just abruptly ended and we drove through massive potholes, which, when you see the little Nissan taxi's doing it, and you're in a big SUV, you can't just back away], we were ready to be to the beach. The GPS pointed us to a road as we got to our beach that just didn't exist. Turned out they were actively digging it up to lay plastic piping. Nevertheless, we made our way in, pulled up, and exhaled. We'd made it!
“How much per night?” Bethany asked the proprietor of the campground. “100 pesos per night” he responded. “Do we get a discount if we stay longer?” “Yes.” “So, do I need to pay you now? We're not sure how long we'll be here.” “Eh, whatever works. I don't care.” BEACH LIFE BABY! It should also be noted that the owner spent most of his time in long sleeve shirts, but pulled the front of it up and placed it firmly between his teeth, letting his stomach soak in the rays. Awesome. 



“That's a pretty sweet rig you have there!” I said, as I introduced myself to our neighbors. Turned out we were camping next to celebrities! Jason and Victoria have been traveling for over a year with their famous dog Neli [and new adoptee Maya] from Neli'sBig Adventure. [They pushed to 3k FB likes while we were there; few more than our paltry sub-200. ;) ] We got a tour of their truck camper and salivated at the idea of being able to stand up, particularly when it would be raining. Jason and Vic became fast friends, and we were pleasantly surprised later that evening to see Sean and T walk by on the beach, their travels down to the coast also working out. That night was spent under tarps as we enjoyed watching a thunderstorm roll in, drinking beers.

We seriously can't get away from storm fronts.

The most electric part of the evening was sitting underneath one of the cabanas; Bethany saw the tarp that covered our ceiling [the floor of the above cabana] was sagging with water. Bethany reached up and began pushing on it to force the water out, and felt her hands tingling. The electrical wiring left a little bit to be desired, for sure.

The following week was a beautiful whirlwind of fresh food, fruity cocktails, ocean swimming [the surf was not to be trifled with though], reading, playing with Neli, and lounging in the hammock.  And a less beautiful whirlwind of a bunch of people walking around naked who had no right to be. Oh, and watching the crabs scamper in and out of their holes on the beach. They were feisty little buggers, one of them started a turf war with me near the bathroom sink. All I want to do is spit out my toothpaste, man!

As we lounged, Victoria had a brilliant idea: "Tomorrow, every single person that comes by selling food, I'm buying."  Loving the idea, I wholeheartedly seconded.  The next day, the four of us proceeded to snack on pastries, fruit iced drinks, coco loco's [with spiced rum, num!], pizza, the works. All in all, we paid around $10 to be ecstatic for the entire day. One of the guys selling doughnuts, was also selling weed on the side.  One of the days when he came by, he proferred the weed after I said no to the doughnuts. Here was the convo, more or less:

Guy: doughnuts senor?
Ike: no gracias
G: no? Weed?
I: no gracias
G: marimba?
I: marimba?
G: marimba.
I: marijuana?
G: shh! No! Marimba!
I: ahh, marimba.
G: Si! Marimba, marimba, [whooshing inhale noise]
I: Ah. Si, claro. No gracias senor.

Busted....

Soccer, waves, sunsets, night after night.  Basically heaven. 

One of the 'Coco Loco' guys. Nothing says happiness like a wheelbarrow of coconuts and rum. 

This dog had murdereyes. 

NELI! We're basically besties.

Local fishing.  Victoria and Jason bought a pound of fresh tuna for 50 pesos [$3.50]

We'll leave you with this.  'COCO BONGO!' - Bethany