Chocolate, Crickets, and Paradise

From Guanajato I had a long journey to get to where I am now. A few long journeys actually. I took a five-hour bus to Mexico City, where I had approximately forty minutes to cross the city to another bus station. Midway through the second of three Metro transfers, I faced a very long underground tunnel. Sweating profusely under my large pack (growing in weight daily), I got to the end, turned the corner, and almost screamed. Another hall, at least a quarter of a mile long. Why can't they just build the two stations next to one another? I'm no engineer, but wouldn't that be easier? Even after this tunnel there were a few more shorter ones, twisting and turning, and then about two-hundred steps, and, I kid you not, the escalator was broken. How I ever made it to my bus on time is beyond me.

After a half-sleepless night on the bus I arrive in Oaxaca, high in the mountains of southern Mexico. After finding a hostel and taking an immediate nap, I explored the city. It's a very artsy place. At night I listened to a free concert in the central square. There are two specialties produced here: Chocolate, and fried crickets. I loved the one and didn't try the other. Can you guess which one I didn't try? I ate dinner one night in the middle of a dirty indoor meat market, because they had a few tables set up and were grilling steaks. Something about the girl grilling the steaks struck me as funny, and so typical of Mexican girls. She was in her teens, and wearing clear plastic pumps, a full-length white lace-trimmed dress, large gold hoop earings, and covering all this glamorousness, a old dirty apron. And she's grilling steaks! Funny.

Something about all these cities was getting me down, so I decided to make the wisest choice possible, and head back to the beach. I took a bus halfway the first day, which winded through some incredible mountain scenery, and stayed in a crummy little town where I decided to splurge a bit on the room. It got me air conditioning, TV, and several cock-roaches. The next morning I took a pickup to Zipolite, finally arriving in paradise. There isn't much here beyond a few shops and bungalows and a perfect beach. It's rimmed by cliffs and the water is either a deep blue or crystal clear. The surf is rough but enjoyable. I'm staying in a resort up on the cliff on on end, called "Shambhala." It is one of the most creatively designed places I've ever seen, stretching up the cliffs in a series of walkways, steps, and rooms, decorated with Indian motifs and hand-crafted shells inlaid in the pavement in mystical patterns, and terminating high up on the summit of the hill in a meditation area. Yep, lots of hippies. My room is actually a hammock, which I paid $4 bucks for. It is on the edge of the cliff and overlooks the beach and ocean. I realized that it's not so fun sleeping a hammock though. But it was worth it when I went to bed under the stars and to the sound of crickets and crashing waves, and even more so when I woke up this morning to the sun rising over the water.