Mexican Pipeline: Puerto Escondido

Puerto Escondido is nothing short of a dream. About a 6-12 hour bus ride from Oaxaca City, variable because the road is quite curvy and prone to mudslides. Our journey, however, was plagued by nothing more than the bus drivers horrible taste in music and a child throwing up everything he had ever eaten all over Nicks backpack.

Browsers beware, this is a photo intensive post.

Naturally, after we got into town, there was only one thing to do. Run straight into that lush body of water we had been seperated from for a lifetime...two whole weeks.

The brothers from the Oaxaca English congregation gave us the contact info of a brother in the Puerto Escondido group (not yet a congregation). We called the brother and he answered immediately. I told him we were witnesses from San Diego and he said him and his wife would be at our place in 30 minutes. The couple, Vincent and Jacinta, are in semi-retirment here from Australia, and have been siphoning off friends from their congregation bit by bit to strengthen the group. Coincidentally, the group mostly consists of Australians, with a few locals who are trying to learn English to help out. The only elder in the hall is from Japan, learned English in Australia and Spanish in Mexico. His accent(s) are stellar. I will never complain about Spanish being hard again.

The next day, we joined them in service.

Pete and Ben demonstrating the most economical way to get to the territory - motorbikes. Sweet as.

Tara scoping out the waves, and foraging for English speakers.

Dale, Freddy, and the German Shepherd between us, our service dog. There are a lot of mangy mutts around town, but this guy was fresh as a daisy and followed us around the territory. If it were not for customs, he would be coming home with me without a doubt.

Eating at a taco stand after a smoking hot day in service. LOOK CLOSELY, this may be the very stand that gave me the rapidly passing hallucinogenic tropical disease!


The next day, Nick and Zoe took a stroll upon the sand. Lo and behold, a mama tortoise decided to come out of the water to lay a grip of eggs right in front of them.

Apparently, Nick thinks it is appropriate to pet things that are giving birth. RUDE.

Then, eggs deposited, she when back from whence she came. A lifeguard came and transfered the eggs to a turtle egg incubation station, or so he said.

Until now, we have been hurtling through time and space at ludicrous speed. It is a treat to kick back and be with the Friends, and good friends.

The waves in Puerto are pretty epic. Something for everyone; 20 foot barrels, clean five-footers, tis all good. The local brothers took Paul, Tara, and Nick out yesterday to a nice little spot.

I see a green door and I want to paint it black.

Cocos frios, or as Vincent says, Jehovahs Gatorade.

Our porch:

A storm came in last night, rendering our beach, Playa Zicatela, a bit monstrous. Playa Carrizalillo was not a bad alternative.

Mira, mira! Zoe points us in the right direction.

Nick shreds!

Paul rips!

Chelsea cruises!
(Tara was tearing it up too, but the camera died.)

We are about two weeks in and there have only been a few challenges. Our bodies being covered from head to toe in mosquito bites, for one. The random intestinal plagues, another. And just when I think my language skills are increasing, I stand corrected. For example, I have been using the wrong word for hair. Instead, I have been going around telling people how much I like their fur. For someone who loves words so much, it is hard to not have the words you want when you want them. But for some things, you do not need words.

Amen.