Love from La Crucecita, Oaxaca, Mexico. Chad and I continue to enjoy the sights, smells, and sounds of this bustling little community by the seashore.

DJ and Amber returned to Minnesota on the 18th.  We met for dinner the evening before at El Sabor de Oaxaca (The Taste of Oaxaca).  The next day Venancio and Anabel drove in from Pochutla and delivered them to the airport.  Then Venancio went back home to go to work and Anabel stayed with us.  That afternoon Chad treated her to an amazing massage (she has a cyst in her  spine which causes quite a bit of pain).  The next morning Anabel fixed us a delicious breakfast of chilaquiles and eggs.  We attempted to go to Playa Maguey, but the tour buses were lined up alongside the road as if it were a road block, so we had our cab driver turn back.  It's hard to enjoy a beach experience when you are crammed in like sardines.  Venancio and Kathia made it to town that afternoon, and it was Kathia's turn for a massage, and then it was Venancio's.  Meanwhile the rest of us had to wander around town for the next couple of hours.  We went into the church, and I noticed that people were arriving for the 7 pm service; a man was carrying a life-size doll of the Baby Jesus to be blessed by the priest, which in turn would bless his home.  This is the inside of the church in our town.

Everywhere you go here you will find shrines, some large, some tiny, to their local virgin; Guadalupe or Juquila, closer to Pochutla, including images of the virgin and candles lit to petition her for blessings. 

The following day, Monday the 20th, we took the bus to Pochutla, where Venancio and Anabel met us and drove us to Puerto Escondido, a bit over an hour up the coast.  PE is a city of about 45,000 people, and is famous for its surfing opportunities.  We checked into the hotel Villa Roca, where we had a lovely view of the ocean.  Next the four of us had lunch at Restaurante Juquilita (in honor of the virgin), where the most interesting dish was what Venancio had, leg of rabbit. 

Our hotel wasn't in the "swanky" area of Zicatela Beach, which is lined with restaurants planted in the sand just yards from the ocean and shops catering to the tourists.  We opted for the less spendy area and a mere $2.50 cab ride.  We were in a more interesting area; cobblestone street that closes to all but foot traffic at 5 pm, when upwards of fifty vendors come out to display their wares on the street.  There is lots of food to choose from, and lots and LOTS of souvenirs.  We would have enjoyed sleeping with our patio doors open to the sound of the waves if it hadn't been for the bar two doors down that played ear-splittingly loud music through the night.

The next day we walked over two miles in search of the pathway that would lead us down over 100 steps to Carizilillo Beach, closed to vehicle traffic.  We spent several hours there, swimming in the turquoise blue waters and searching for abillone sea shells.  The climb back up was much easier than down, but we opted for a taxi back to our hotel. 

That night we walked to the downtown area.  PE was built in a hilly area, so we had to walk uphill; while the streets are gently sloped, the sidewalks are more terraced, which made it difficult to negotiate for Chad.  Not only are they terraced, but inconsistently so.  Some steps are low, some are high.  Some are slopes, some are broken steps.  Many sidewalks have large holes, and all have hazards of some sort.  But the upswing are the street vendors...especially those serving such treats as deep fried churros!

The next day we visited Puerto School, or more correctly, Instituto de Lenguages, the Institute of Languages, where they also give surfing, cooking, and dancing lessons.  We are very probably going to be staying there next year for at least a month to give Chad the opportunity to study one on one with an instructor (Spanish, not surfing!). Our bungalow will accommodate both of us and has a kitchen and bathroom, and a killer view of the ocean.  We were met there by Mari, a sweet thing in charge of administration.  She, and all workers there, are incredibly helpful, and they serve people from all over the world.  One woman came from Norway to study Spanish and ended up moving to the area permanently.  One 75-year old man came from California to learn Spanish...by reading lips!  He is deaf and wanted a new challenge, and found great success there!  Chad will not be the first blind student; one previous student had some vision; but I'll bet he will be the most handsome!

That afternoon we caught the Sur bus back to Pochutla, where once again we were met by Venancio and Anabel, and went back to Juana's house for a short visit.  Then we jumped on the next Sur to La Crucecita, and then it was Hogar Dulce Hogar, Home Sweet Home.  I was surprised how much I had missed our own place after just two nights.  The original plan was to spend three nights in PE then maybe spend another two or three in Zipolite, but we had missed our routine at the condo.  We will have to go back to Zipolite another time.

The bus ride from PE to Pochutla was very disheartening.  In the last blog I talked a bit about the poverty, which was also prevalent along the way, but this time I was equally struck by the amount of litter along the highway.  I was curious about this so I did a bit of research and learned that only a small fraction of municipalities in Mexico even have any sort of organized system for collecting waste.  Hence the garbage:  people toss it along the highways because there is nothing else to do with it if they aren't able to burn it, which is also common.  In fact, in 2011 Mexico City closed its landfill, one of the world's largest, because of the greenhouse gases it emitted.  Unfortunately, they didn't have an alternate plan. After it was closed, the garbage trucks still showed up because they didn't know where else to go, and thus began the trash epidemic.  Mexico City at times floods during the rainy season because of the garbage that blocks the city's drainage system.  There is also a "not my problem" mentality here with regard to trash:  someone else can pick it up, not that anyone else does.  

Also, the people descend from people who have been oppressed by a government that discourages individual thinking and problem-solving.  In the towns that do have trash collection services, it is voluntary.  Some people have no desire to walk their bags out to the trucks when they arrive honking their horns, so they let it pile up out back for the wind or the critters to carry it away.  Empty pop bottles are tucked away in tree limbs or fence posts or just tossed out car windows.  There is no fine for littering, and if there were it wouldn't be enforced.  I am very grateful that La Crececita is relatively clean and has people who pick up trash around the main square.  In spite of what I read, I still don't understand how the site of trash can NOT bother someone at least enough to start some kind of movement.  I know it has something to do with lack of good leadership and organization, but also something else.  For lack of a better explanation, I think there is an element of a lack of pride.  America may fall short in many ways in some minds, but if you were to spend any length of time here or in any developing nation you would soon come to appreciate the leadership we have in our communities and the general pride and respect we have for our surroundings.  At least here in La Crucecita there are street cleaners, AND I was able to experience the trash collection personally this morning while on my walk.  The loud horn was coming from the trash truck and young señoritas were running out of store fronts and houses carrying bags of trash...they had to run if they wanted the trucks to stop.

Until later, with love,

Chad and Michelle

Two weeks in and loving every minute!

Saturday March 4th we landed in Huatulco, Mexico after a smooth flight.  The airport in Huatulco is a thatch-roofed building that drew excitement from others on the plane, as if we had landed in a tropical oasis paradise...oh that's right!  We had!

Venancio and Anabel, our dear old friends of more than twenty years met us at the airport and many hugs and kisses were shared, as well as a few tears.  The drive from the airport was typically Mexican:  I sat on Chad's lap in the front seat and my head bumped the ceiling with each bounce of the SUV.  First stop in La Crucecita?  Las Posadas bar for cervezas.  Then we got our traveling companions DJ and Amber settled into their room at the hotel Mixteca.  This was their very first time in Mexico, and their honeymoon to boot; we couldn't think of a better place for their two-week stay than here to introduce them to Mexican hospitality.  Then the search began for a place we would call home for the next five weeks.  We spent a few hours waiting around to be shown apartments and homes, but nothing panned out so we checked into hotel Monte Flor in Chahue and decided to resume the search the following day.  We gave Venancio and Anabel their gifts from home, one of which was a picture of Olivia from her senior year of high school, to which Anabel cried, hugged it, kissed it, and pointed to her and said she is her daughter, too.

That evening for dinner Anabel chose San Juanito Campestre, a rustic hideaway off the beaten path which is known for its more exotic fare of venison, armadillo, and iguana.  I stuck with breaded fish, and Chad's breaded shrimp was the size of my fish fillets!  Venancio had roasted venison (not as common here as in Minnesota) and Chad also had seafood soup, which contained a HUGE fish head.

The next day we drove around looking for a place and happened to drive past Condos Pacíficos.  We made arrangements to meet Ivan, the manager, and within a few hours we were settled into a furnished two-bedroom apartment with a laundry room, kitchen, AC, and swimming pool just feet from the door.  All for $350!  Chad had been holding out for a pool (me?  I didn't care--isn't there a ginormous one about a mile from here??) but I am so glad that he didn't budge on that issue because the pool has become a regular part of our daily routine.

Venancio and Anabel stayed with us two nights.  It was so nice to have Anabel show me the ropes--she took me shopping for essentials and groceries so I would know where to go and how things work (for example, it's important to drop a peso or two into the cup for the little children who bag your groceries)

That day we also met Isaac, the middle child, and his lovely wife Estéfano (Fani for short) and their five-month old Amaia Michelle (named for me!)  Isaac is a wonderful man and dedicated husband and father.

After Venancio and Anabel returned to Pochutla, Chad and I walked to Soriana, a mini version of Wal-Mart, and bought cleaning supplies so I could give the apartment a good scrub-down.  I also washed all of the bedding from the apartment, and I found decorative treasures in the kitchen cupboards that I brought out to display.  The apartment finally felt like home.

We were now able to settle into a daily routine, which includes morning coffee, pool time, breakfast or lunch, shopping for a few groceries for the evening meal, maybe beach time, dinner, and our favorite, the evening stroll through town.  Final stop of the day:  bakery for morning treats and pan dulce (sweet bread) for the men who guard the gate through the night.

Saturday the 11th we took the bus to Pochutla, about forty-five minutes away, to Venancio and Anabel's house, where we would be the guests of honor at una gran fiesta! This bus ride isn't so bad, I thought to myself.  Nice and clean, air-conditioned bus, pretty smooth ride, driver seemed to have a healthy respect for human life...no problemo!  I could make this trip weekly to visit Venancio and Anabel, and heck, for 28 pesos, just over $1 US, not too shabby!  The return trip, however, would prove to be a completely different story...

Anabel met us at the bus station with her nephew, who was my personal valet.  Pochutla is a much larger version of La Crucecita but we didn't have to go far to get to the house.  Through a narrow gate, up several flights of concrete steps, duck under the hard rubber water hose suspended between the buildings, up another flight of stairs (no handrails!) and up onto the patio of their home.  These housing structures accommodate several families so if you were to wander around up there you may end up in someone else's patio and possibly kitchen pretty easily (the washing machine and oven are usually outside)

Our initial plan was to go straight to Puerto Angel where we would be staying two nights, about twenty minutes away, but since we were greeted at the station, we were obliged to go to the house first and have refreshments.  Here I met Juana, the matriarch of the family, Anabel's mother, and mother to eleven other children.

After beverages we took a cab to Puerto Angel and checked into Hotel Cordelia, a lovely inn with balconies looking out onto the bay.

The area including Puerto Angel, San Agustinillo, and Zipolite Beach are considered the Riviera Oaxaqueña (the Oaxacan Riviera), and rightly so.

Later we went back to Pochutla, picked up a dozen roses each for Juana and Anabel, and returned to the house where the cooking was in full swing.  On the menu were tiritas made with sail fish, salsa de chicharrón (pig skin in red sauce), tamales Oaxaqueños, guacamole, goat cheese, tostadas, refried beans, cerveza, crema de mezcal, and homemade flan, which was to die for!

Here we once again after too many years saw the lovely Kathia and met her husband Neftali and their son Joao, Abraham and his wife Melissa and their daughter Melina Marley (he's a Bob Marley fan). We brought the kids and their children gifts of new shoes, clothes, stuffed animals, porcelain dolls, and good old American greenbacks.

True to Mexican hospitality, the four of us were not only served first, but served on the only "real" plates in the house, and after we sampled each dish and gave our approvals, the others joined in.

Venancio had acquired a speaker through which he played the music that Chad had put together for him onto several CDs from his own music collection.  Another example of deferring to the guests of honor.  There was lots of dancing, and all the women and girls wanted their pictures taken with Chad.

We made it back to Puerto Angel after midnight to a locked gate at the hotel, but I had forgotten than most hotels are open to the beach so all we had to do was walk to the back and right up the stairs.  For a minute there I envisioned myself sleeping on the beach, but sleeping in my bed wasn't much different, as the sound of the waves were right outside our balcony door.

The next day we went to Zipolite Beach (clothing optional) and had breakfast at The Best Place on the Beach restaurant.  Venancio was called away for a pick up in Huatulco so knowing he would be gone for quite a while, Chad and I lounged on the beach, listened to the waves crashing to shore (here is a true Hawaii Five-O pipeline), and I tried not to make it look like I was peeking while I was peeking at the nudies.  Chad stripped down to his birthday suit while I stayed in my bathing suit.  I learned you don't have to be a perfect 10 to flaunt what you got.

We met Venancio while walking back toward town and from there the three of us went to Pina Palmera, a rehabilitation center settled amongst a huge grove of palm trees.  There are four residents there, one with Epilepsy, one with severe Autism, one with schizophrenia, and one parapalegic.  Therapists provide care for the four residents but due to lack of funding, they are not able to accommodate more.  They also provide training to families who can perform therapy for a disabled family member.  Our plan for visiting the center was to learn whether Chad would be able to offer his volunteer services as a massage therapist, but it seems that their greater need is in financial support.  The facility has several shops where disabled people create items to sell to tourists, such as wooden bookmarks and fish mobiles and beautiful colorful flying birds, and books made from paper that they recycle on site.

From there we headed back to Pochutla straight to the bus station, where we met up with DJ and Amber and took the bus back to Huatulco.  I had to use the potty before boarding, which required the following:  5 pesos to the gentleman guarding the door, and in turn he handed over a very chintzy length of toilet paper, no toilet seat, of course (smaller folks:  careful not to fall in, children have to hold on with both hands on the sides), and Lord only knew how to flush the thing so I figured I'd let the guy earn his 5 pesos and do it for me.  Next Amber had to go, so I showed her how it was done and the guard was quick to scold me for not paying the required 5 pesos for my use of the toilet.  Didn't he know I just went?  What if I just wanted to check my teeth in the mirror?  5 pesos just for going in?  I wondered if I would have had to pay more for more toilet paper had I needed it...

Speaking of toilets in Mexico, take a piece of advice:  always carry tissues with you because not all bathrooms have paper. Since you can't carry a toilet seat with you (which reminds me of the bathroom pass in seventh grade; a key attached to a real live toilet seat) you'll have to make due without.

Another piece of advice:  under NO circumstances, NEVER get on a bus if the driver is behind schedule unless you are overly excited to meet your maker.  What should have been at least a forty-five minute drive was accomplished in half an hour, and it was the scariest half hour of my life.  I likened it to the old roller coaster at Valley Fair, which absolutely terrifies me, except that at least on the roller coaster I know there is a reasonable chance that the ride will end safely.  Not so on this bus.  The centrifugal force of his speeding around the curves through the mountains caused loose objects to roll around the floor at Mach speed.  I am still astonished that my body isn't a crumpled heap among a pile of smoldering rubble at the bottom of a cliff along the southern coast of Mexico.  I had every intention of giving that life-hating mongrel driver a piece of my mind once we came to a screeching halt at the station in La Crucecita, but Chad warned me that that would have put me into the negative on the "cool" scale.  I'm so close to hovering just at 0 so I better not take any chances. Once I'm in the negative, it's hard to recover.

DJ and Amber leave Saturday after their two weeks here in Huatulco.  Venancio and Anabel will take them to the airport, and afterwards Chad will have procured a massage table from a resident here at the condos and give Anabel the best and only massage of her life.  She suffers from sever back pain from sleeping on a hard floor every night.  Sunday will be Venancio's turn if he behaves.  Then we will head back to Pochutla and from there go on to Puerto Escondido, where we will visit a Spanish language school called Puerto School.  They diversify and also give surfing lessons!  Chad is hoping to study there next year and live for a while with a host family.

La Crucecita is a somewhat difficult city to describe because I have nothing to compare it to.  It is so atypical of what I am used to.  The closest I can come to describing it is a miniature version of an ethnic burrow of New York City, but nestled at the base of the Sierra Madres. Offerings of anything and everything you could possibly need or want, mostly food.  The competition has to be stiff; the restaurants outnumber any other store front, and some are so small they can accommodate only three small tables.  Artisan goods, fruit and vegetable stands and stores, chicken sold out of a store front no bigger than a coat closet, seafood sold out of coolers on the sidewalks, lemonade sold out of big vats and scooped into plastic bags with a straw sticking out, silver jewelry, indigenous clothing, mini grocery stores, and cell-phone accessory stores.  The town wasn't built with tall people like Chad in mind--Chad may just go home with a permanent bend in his neck from being told to constantly duck his head under the endless awnings over the store fronts.  Plus the sidewalks are perilously narrow and not level, so in some ways its a lot like hiking the Superior Hiking Trail.  The town is busy during the day, but really comes alive at night when people escape the heat of their homes for the cooler (not by much) temperatures of the evening.  Vendors also come out in droves to sell everything from candy and popcorn to purses and marionettes.  Oftentimes there is impromptu music on bongos or guitars, or both.  The church is lit up at night with red, white, and green (Mexico's flag colors) and some evenings you can hear mass across the square.  Not only is the town charming in every sense of the word, but it is also safe.  The people are courteous, warm, helpful, and inviting.  Naturally, they rely on the boost to their economy that tourism provides, but they are genuinely nice and welcoming.

It is an ideal location for a tourist, being so close to so many beautiful bays along the coast while still offering a truly Mexican experience for the traveler.

I am always struck, however, by the extreme poverty here.  While it's isn't ever apparent in town, once you get just outside of downtown you really see how destitute and isolated so many people are.  These are the people who get rides into town each day to sell the little bit of food they are able to put together to try to sell or grow from their mango trees.  No plumbing, and their one-room homes are lean-tos made of corrugated tin and sticks.  Children roam barefoot looking for something to eat or to be entertained by, and the stray dogs, often with mange, look absolutely miserable.  These are the sights that hit me hard; they remind me how crazy lucky I am to have been born into the greatest country on earth.  So many of these people merely exist.  Hope?  Hope for what?  There is no thought of working a decent job until they are of retiring age then settling down to enjoy the rest of their days in a peaceful, comfortable way, maybe do some traveling, expand their minds, learn a new craft.  That concept would not even enter the minds of these people.  So the next time you yearn for something you wish you had, please instead be grateful for what you do.

Until next time, with love, Chad and Michelle.

Here we are...fifteen days from our visit to Huatulco.  It has been twelve years since Chad's last visit, and I forget how many for me.  Twenty-one? Twenty-two?  I don't recall years like some people do.  I can't say, "oh yes, I was in Huatulco in 1990 something."  My only benchmark is that Chad and I weren't married yet.

Our suitcases are packed already.  We had to find out how well (or not so well) everything that we are bringing down will fit.  Six pairs of shoes, many, many outfits, teddy bear, two porcelain dolls, a box of 96 crayons, a large coloring book, a set of kitchen knives, two frying pans, two cutting boards, plus all of OUR belongings.  The aforementioned are for our friends, Anabel and Venancio, and their kids and grand-kids.  We take access to things like tennis shoes for granted; Venancio is still wearing the pair of Nikes Chad brought him twelve years ago.  The last time I saw the family, the kids (Abraham, Isaac, and Katia) were small, one in diapers. Now they have their own kids! (Amea Michelle, Marley, and Joel)

This is our first REAL vacation since our honeymoon (I don't accept Chad's claim that camping counts as a true vacation).  It seems like it's all I can think about. We will be there for just a hair shy of FIVE weeks!  It seems like a long time, but we will be renting an entire home in La Crucecita, so we won't get tired of the eating out scene (not that I could get tired of that in Mexico).  We will also spend a few nights in Puerto Escondido, about forty-five minutes up the coast from the Bahías de Huatulco (the nine bays that make up the area; there is no true town named Huatulco).  While there we will also visit Piña Palmera, a rehabilitation facility and La Escuelita, a school for children and adults who want to learn English.  Our reason for doing this is that perhaps in the future we will spend three months each year there, in which case it may be nice to have something to do, like teach English (me) or work as a massage therapist helping disabled people (Chad) other than just being beach bums.

My intention is to document our adventures so our friends and families can be informed of what and how we are doing.  I will do my best to update the blog on a regular basis, but it will depend on having access to a computer and wi-fi, which theoretically shouldn't be a problem, but then again we will be in Mexico where things don't always happen the way or as soon as we are used to them happening here.

We will be traveling down with our friends DJ and Amber (married a little over six months so still on their honeymoon), who will be staying two weeks.  This will be their very first visits to Mexico, and I couldn't think of a more perfect way to introduce them to the culture than via our wonderful friends Anabel and Venancio. We are hoping to squeeze in a three- or four-day trip to Oaxaca City, which is a five hour drive from La Crucecita.  When I was an exchange student in Puebla in 1984 my host family and I drove from Puebla THROUGH the mountains all the way to Acapulco, which I just barely survived (thanks to the tranquilizer my host mother gave me) so I should be able to survive the trip to Oaxaca City, especially since Venancio will be driving, and he drives cab for a living.

If you haven't heard of the Bahías de Huatulco, I strongly encourage you to google it.  It is a beautiful, pristine area with miles and miles of beaches and calm lagoons.  

I hope you will enjoy this blog!  Perhaps it will entice you to vacation in Huatúlco some year soon. We would love to host you when we are there!

Michelle and Chad