Leaving Las Olas

We left Puerto Escondido. Why would we do such a thing? I keep asking myself the same question. Apparently, it has something to do with a sweet housesitting arrangement in Guanajuato. I will save my tears, for I've got a feeling in my bones I will return there someday.

Tara clinging to our last moments in Puerto.


We managed to take a day trip to Huatulco, a sandy little town with pretty bays and apparently, monster six-inch waves capable of taking out two grown women.

In between the 8 am service meeting and the 4 pm service meeting, we got up to some swell activity.

Paul surfing Zicatela.

Nick & Chels heading out for a sesh.

Minutes after the above picture was taken things got heavy and I was high tailing it to dry land, while Nick decided to bust out this salty snack:

We probably wouldn't have left, left to our own devices. But Zorayda, appreciator of all things historic, devised a devious plan to deviate us from the delightful depths of the sea. We were to leave and receive cultural enrichment at the ruins off Monte Alban in central Oaxaca. There was much weeping and gnashing of the teeth on my part, but off we went to the ruinous ruins, and truth be told they were pretty sweet.

Crouching Pablo, Hidden Nico

Zoe amongst her tribesmen.

After soaking up some ancient history, we headed back to the house to prepare for lift off. Little did we know, our host family in Oaxaca had spent days crafting a special meal of traditional food, including this giant vat of mole. Witness as Nick adds the final stir, assuring a meal that would culturally enrich our palates, and later necesitate the use of stretchy pants.

Our hosts: Benigna, Hugo, Mari, Nellie, and little Vaña.
Objects in picture may be larger than they appear.

With all our luggage packed in and six of us trying to fit in one car to the airport, one person had to be packed away in the trunk like a piece of baggage. Unfortunately, none of us can be considered petite. So, the put the giant baby in back.

Even Vaña knew it was cruel and unusual. Clearly, she was so distraught she started to emit rays. We headed to the airport, said our goodbyes to Oaxaca (and Paul), and headed off to San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato. We've been here for a couple days, but I can't tell you anything now, for there isn't time.

Ok, there's a little time. Time to meet one friend from San Miguel.

Meet... EDMUND!

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.

Land of the Chapolines, Oaxaca City

San Cristobal

Forgive me for not writing sooner, but I have been suffering from extreme writers block. And by writers block, I mean a tropical illness that resulted in 24 hours of high fever and hallucinations. But I have recovered splendidly and am reporting from Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca.

After spending a few more days with Mimi and Julian it was time to say goodbye to Chiapas and our precious Crystal and begin our journey to Oaxaca. It was an overnight bus, taking about 11 hours. However, every hour the bus would be stopped and boarded by a police officer, who would kindly escort a passenger off the bus, never to be seen again. Horrified as I was, Zoe assured me that since we were not Guatemalan, it was unlikely we were to be deported. Still, I slept with one eye open.

The family we stayed with in Oaxaca City took care of us in all endeavors, from going in the ministry to exploring the market. The English congregation in Oaxaca is around 25 people, and they are rather swamped with territory if you happen to be in the market for a congregation where the need is great…er.

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From the moment we got to Oaxaca, Snack Monster --I mean, Nick, was fixated on trying their famous local treat, chapolines, or as we like to call them, grasshoppers dipped in chile and lime.

Mmmmm...juicy.

They come in all flavors really, big and small, spicy and sweet. The sister above and right is named Benigna, we stayed with her and her family, she is delightful for many reasons, including suprising us with mugs full of blended chocolate.

Our reactions to the chapoline taste test were decidedly mixed.

From alarmed... To revolted...
To purely ecstatic.

Later, we went to see El Arbol de Tule, which is apparently the biggest tree in the world. If photos could capture it, I would show you, but it cannot, so I will not.

We enjoyed some wholesome recreation in the park. Oh, and we gained a Pablo!

And some upbuilding fellowship in service. Paul does not know a lick of Spanish. Or at least, did not until he went out with these brothers.

Below is our adopted child, Vaña, who is not even three but is a genius. After staring at me for quite some time, she asked, ¿Que color es tu piel?

What do you think, I said, what color is my skin? After pondering this, she pointed to the murky beige of the car interior. The color of the car! You are the color of the car! she said.

Next time I have to specify my ethnicity, I will be sure to check Other: Automobile.

With the Spanish congregation in Oaxaca City, a sight to behold with 25 publishers marauding down the street. If it were not for all the other commotion on the street, we might have been a spectacle.

SUPERJUNTOS! Prefered mode of transportation in Chiapas.

Something is rotten in San Cristobal, Tara?
Priceless face. I could not resist. On to Puerto Escondido! Vamanos!