So this is about the promised beaches, …
We leave San Cristobal and the wet after C.'s swift recovery from food poisoning and many pizzas for the boys, pass San Juan Chamula and Chiapa del Corzo, north of Tuxtla Gutiérrez the road atop the Cañon de Sumidero is closed. Rolling down towards the coast the torrents get at us, in Arriaga we seek shelter from the storms. Boca del Cielo, a boat ride and then we are trapped, between a violent ocean and a peaceful lagoon, the boys make friends.
Back Puerto Arista the waves house high almost spill away the little beach restaurants, nothing here for us. The torrents get us again driving east from Chiapas into Oaxaca along the coast, where the winds blow across the isthmus down from the mountains over the pastures and savannas with its many mango trees. Salina Cruz is chaotic; we have 2 weeks left with the boys, we might as well take it easy. Later we find ourselves on this very nice open beach, Chipehua; surfers launch from the far end, one women and she has only one arm, shark attack; I think I had seen her in a documentary. The waves are kind in some areas, break far on a reef, the boys love being thrown in by daddy, later they make friends and play in the dunes, later the torrents come down hard, I take the shower in the rains from heaven (like in Liberia).
Huatulco is an eco-tourism farce, overrated concrete bullsh!t...
Puerto Angel we park under a tree before the torrents break loose and I hear the waves break so near, all night. We wake under a tree full of birds that chatter, on the beach boats are all high up, the sun is up and nice, the red flag is out.
A beach restaurant is owned by some unfriendly drunk idiot folk, my boys make no friends here although they wanted and the owner's little lady wanted, then 3 stupids try to conspire to send us the wrong way... what is that, off-season malaise?
Zipolite is just 5kms down the coast and we stay 4 nights in a room with a beach view, so easy and the owner doesn't mind, my boys like his cat and the parrot, the afternoon siestas in a hammock while the torrents come and go. The ocean is off-limit for Daniel and David, wetting toes gets them washed away, when I go in it is like draw up a contract with the elements, let them take you out to hopefully spill you back in somewhere. Fascinating violent and as a matter of fact scores of people go missing near-by; the seasonal storms are of exceptional ferociousness.
Beyond Puerto Escondido, the bridges to Chacahua have gone missing and the roads under water. We drive and drive the Torrents come regularly. In Playa Bonfil near Acapulco the boys meet three companions and I wonder what language they talk, how easy they bridge the gap!
Acapulco, in Guerrero, then keeps us for another 4 days because only the unknowing would dare to count Acapulco dead with its calm almost entirely closed bay. Beer is cheap on the brown sandy beach, the fishermen and pelicans are an all day-long attraction for my boys, the break is easy here, and they swim, turn, dive, summersault. No, we don't get bothered by crime, killings and decapitations, the machine-gun battles between police and drug gangs. The vochito taxis queue up at night, while the young and old hug and kiss and police blue lights blink and the sirens go. In our moist hotel just a rat bothers us and has Christina shriek and stand up on her bed. The boys do likewise, learn quickly. Next day she is sick again of food/rat poisoning.
Yes, these are the last days on the beach and we extend them as long as we could, then we leave, 13th of September.
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