cruising thru the mangroves en route to chacahua
chacahua lineup
Cha-Cha-Chacahua
Walk 10 minutes to the collectivo taxi.
Hop a cab to Rio Grande.
Public bus to Zapotolito.
Fishing boat thru the mangroves to the rivermouth.
Bienvenido a Chacahua.
Chacahua is where I go to get away from the hectic pace of Puerto Escondido.
A national park situated on a thin strip of palm-strewn coast, the ‘town’ is best accessed by boat which dumps you right at the entrance to the tidal lagoon – clear waters filled with boas, crocs and more.
It’s also home to the hollowest, funnest, least-crowded right-hand point break I know of, and it’s offshore ALL DAY. Dios mio.
right-handers over sand. fun, much?
This year did see a few more people (fleeing the comp also) and funky banks, but warm water barrels in board shorts with a bunch of your mates while Mexican fisherman zip past thru the rivermouth still takes some beating.
The sealife there is incredible – turtles bobbing round the lineup, schools of baitfish being harassed by seabirds all day every day, long toms (big garfish) apparently spearing the odd local in the neck. Nuts.
Swim across the river and walk round the cliffs and there is also 50-odd kms of beachbreaks to explore, usually bigger and less perfect, but absolutely deserted.
When it’s flat, it’s hotter than hell and dull dull dull, but we raided some the fish market for a bbq, climbed some hills, had some fun.
One of my fave spots in the world.
our barbeque crew - aus, finnish, hawaiian, polish, venezuelan. ha!
Oaxaca City
There’s a lot to like about Oaxaca.
For one thing its 1500m elevation makes it nice and cool, and thus easy to trot around during the day.
It’s also pretty compact and simple to negotiate using the many churches as landmarks – easy to spot as nothing in town is built more than two stories high – earthquakes!
The state capital is an artistic hub for the many creative types in nearby villages so art cafes and galleries abound, alongside the usual random street processions and brass bands that seem to spring up everywhere in Mexico.
The city itself was founded by Spanish settlers not long after Cortes’ conquest but there are ruins nearby at Monte Albarn and Mitla, dating back to about 500AD.
I also discovered the world’s maddest antique shop, a dusty maze of crazy artworks, ancient wooden masks, mouldy books and a couple of bowling pins. Too good.
shoeshine dudes, oax.
Poetas de la poes.
On the second night in Oaxaca I headed out with Jesse and a bunch of his mates from Spanish school (the teachers, fortuitously).
We hit a cool-looking café that was hosting a ‘jam night’, but just two songs in, it became apparent there would also be some poetry reading. Fuck.
The first twat, sorry, poet, was more than a little obsessed with sex, so I learned a few choice erotic terms, although even the Spanish maestros said his poems made little sense.
At least he projected his word-porn on the wall so I could read along.
Next up though, were a procession of floppy-haired 40-something pseudo intellectuals who had the audacity to read from various books.
Now, I’m no poetry-reading expert, but isn’t the idea to present your own work?
Any fool can get up there and read some Keats or a bit of AB Patterson.
Needless to say there wasn’t enough Indio beer in all of Mexico to make me enjoy the experience, even if I were somehow able to understand these chumps.
It did remind me of when I attended an algebra class in Laos – vaguely interesting for about eight seconds but ultimately kind of stupid.
i would have happily purchased every item in this amazing store
