Halloween in Mexico

I've been hearing about Halloween preparations back home, which has got me thinking. Next Halloween I'll go as Seinfeld. I also have a craving to go as a skeleton - although, if they encourage it for the day of the dead I'll do my best to go as one here in Mexico. I'll have to see though. Ya never know, it might be a mockery to their culture. Although that could just make for a even better night. I haven't had eggs thrown at me since my first year of high school.

One other costume I thought of would be the moon. You could wear all black sprinkled with an odd star - including a hood. Then paint your face as earth and your bottom as the moon. I don't think it'd be distastefull. Especially if you had some real constellations. I'd put O'Rion's belt on my belt too. Feel free to steal my idea. There aren't enough Halloweens in one's life to use all the ideas.

Anywho, I haven't told a story yet about where I am or what I'm doing, so I'll ramble on until a story comes out.

I'm in Mazulte. A town of 800, south of Ixtapa and Aculpoco. Google Maps won't produce it for me, so I tagged this entry as Puerto Escondido. But I ensure you Mazulte exists. I'll vouch for it. It's hot and mucky, so I try to strip off my salty shirty (salty from my sweat, not sea water) and take a dip in the baby blue Pacific at least twice a day. In fact, my board shorts are still wet from the ocean as I type. Although by now it might be from sweat instead of brine.

I caught an overnight bus from Oaxaca to Pachutla, then took a camioneta to Mazulte. I arrived with a Mexican and his gringa girl, who said nothing the whole time in our camioneta ride to the beach. Camionetas are pick-up trucks that haul people to and from the beach towns. Sitting under the canopy I squinted my eyes and played down my boyish smile - giddy from the truck ride. The novelty still gets me. Maybe it's nostalgia from hanging out at Jordan's farm back in the day. I suspect it's from the wind in my hair, like Guy Lafleur on a breakaway. There's one thing I share with dogs.

Anywho, under a clear sky of nothing but black and stars (what a great idea for a Halloween costume!) we jumped out of the canopied box at 6am, which is early for anywhere. But in a beach town that hour simply doesn't exist. I'm sure the coloquial definition of twilight zone is simply 6am. The Mexican and his gringa just plotted themselves in beach chairs, apparently deciding to sleep until the town woke up. I was bagged after not sleeping on my bus, so walked around looking for and finding no one. I sat myself on a rock to watch the sun rise. This land faces south, so you can't see the sun rise or set. Nevertheless the clouds light up the sand pink. Eventually at 7am there was one place open, which is where I pitched my tent and happily slept until the early afternoon.

Since then I could sum up my time with four verbs: sleep, eat, swim and read. I do all of those at least twice a day. Nothing more, nothing less. Although I met three Canadians girls from Smithers. They tell me it's the same latitude as Edmonton. Wow, that caused a lot of confusion. They were hanging out with a cute Mexican girl who's English decays when talking to me. She blames it on me speaking Spanish. I would like to blame it on me making her nervous, but that'd just be a lie to make me look cool. Doesn't matter though, she's shared more real conversations with than I've had since Carlos.

Alrighty, that's all for now folks. Keep fit and have fun!

written by

ryanmyers on October 27, 2009 from Puerto Escondido, Mexico

from the travel blog: Ryan's First Sabbatical

Send a Compliment

comment on this...