Day of the Dead

There was some excitement after work at UMAR with our very own Day of the Dead. By the end of the week I'm usually pretty beat but this was worth sticking around for after punching out on Friday night. Different groups spent the afternoon preparing altars.



Some of my classes this week have involved making our own scary movie with a script I whipped out by ripping off "The Evil Dead" and cutting it down to ten minutes. We had a scary mask and a cardboard chainsaw.
If that sounds like fun, it was even better. I was still in the mood for that kind of fun on Friday and UMAR's festival was the perfect thing.

There was a feeling of excitement in the air. I wanted to take pictures of everything but the Sony didn't cooperate too well in that lighting. Day of the Dead isn't as morbid or campy as Halloween. It's a happy and sentimental remembrance of those who have passed away. I was glad to see that people dressed up for the affair though. There was a strong Goth element present.








Knives through the head were popular.


The altars were cool.






Fun times.

Curiosity

Between Crucecita and the airport I've noticed some intriguing signs that have kept me wondering. Two Sundays ago, having woken up too late to do anything major, I headed out to find what these places had to offer.

The first was El Faisan. With a sign and a driveway with giant metal "2"s, there was bound to be something of note.

The driveway led to this wall. The moment of truth.

Aw shucks, it seems to be one of those car hotels. I'm not even sure what these places are. You get a walled parking spot with a curtain. I think you just sleep in your own car. Maybe there's a garden hose to wash your vehicle down.
It wasn't a happening spot. No customers. I heard the distant bark of a dog and two women chattering but I didn't see a soul.




There was this massive wreck of a transport truck on the way out of the horseshoe driveway as a reminder to watch everything in front as I continued down the highway. Huatulco is more laid back than Cancun but it's still a party/vacation town and there are a lot of people driving that shouldn't be. We had a fatality around the ADO intersection this week. The previous week, I saw windshield glass spread all over the Pemex intersection on two different mornings. The traffic cop started hanging around there for a while after that. His presence alone makes a huge difference on people's recall of basic driving rules but he can't be everywhere.

Onward. Next stop: Piedra del Moros. This was more promising as there was an actual tourism sign recommending a visit. Mike told me it was a giant rock. Well, on a slow Sunday, a giant rock might be just the thing.


According to the sign, Piedra del Moros is only 5 kilometres off the highway on the same road leading up the mountain to all the cascadas. You pass through several peaceful pueblas on this road. None of them announced their names by signs so watch your odometer and maybe you won't pass it by like I did. That tourism sign on the highway is the last one you're going to see. You have to stop at the right village and ask directions. I realized I'd gone too far after 10 km. Beautiful countryside. Lots of people walking on the road and children playing. I went nice and slow.





There are lots of side roads but I seemed to be having good luck with instinct because I'd find myself in another puebla offering information on the cascadas. Eventually I started climbing the mountain. I could have reached the cascadas before nightfall easily enough but I wasn't prepared to spend the night up there and I turned back after a considerable twisty climb. The road was nowhere near as bad as I'd been told and I know the Italika could make it no problem. As for gas, it's really a one way trip. Downhill is a matter of keeping your hands on the brakes at all times. I'd like to take that trip early some day, check out all the different waterfalls and instead of returning the same way, continue on that road and make the loop back down to the coast somewhere near Barra de la Cruz.


Remember to take your hand off the gas and let momentum carry you across these streams or you might wipe out. For Canadians, the experience is not unlike wet black ice covered with a dusting of powdery snow. The underwater moss is incredibly slick.
I checked the internet at work next day to see if there really is something to see at Piedra del Moros and found somebody's travel blog. Like me, they passed right on by it the first time but they persevered. It really is a large igneous rock.

All that serene countryside washed away the grim reminder from the demolished transport truck and I found myself taking a sharp curve too quickly on the way home. I slowed right down, even with a pushy truck crowding my tail and I had a moment when I really didn't think I was going to make it. The bike wanted to drift right off the road. I was right on the edge, feeling grateful there was no one riding with me, when the danger passed.

I still don't have a helmet yet. The plan so far has simply been not to get in an accident. But I bet that woman who died on Monday and that girl who showed up a month late for school in a neck brace and Michelle when she was rammed off her bicycle by a taxi driver months ago, all had the same plan. It isn't foolproof.

If this brilliant plan backfires before I buy a helmet, Mike already has dibs on my office coffee machine and I suppose he should get the Sony stereo as well. There it is, on the internet, surely as legally binding as a will.

Happy Halloween everybody. Drive safely.

Crucecita Rocks

It's been said that nothing much goes on in Huatulco but it has everything I need. We had an outstanding rock concert in Sector T a week ago. Students were selling tickets but I waited until the last minute before committing because it had been a wet week. The rain came down so hard on the day of the show I finally invested in a decent raincoat. It didn't bode well for the show but everything cleared by nightfall.
People were still busy setting up the lights and concessions when I arrived. I hung out with other early birds; Franco, singer frontman for Cannabis, and his girl friend, talking music until the show kicked off with a reggae band.

There I was standing in the dark, enjoying the tunes with an empty plastic beer cup folded in my pocket when out of the darkness I was almost jumped by three of the best friends I hadn't known were coming; Mike passing me a fresh cold one as he came into focus. It was a cool moment.


Lots of my students were that night.
This is Amaury; singer, guitar player and frontman for Rock Mata Pop and all around cool guy.

It was a quality night. I had my fingers crossed that it would be and I wouldn't have to lie and tell my students how great they were. They were fantastic. They had that essential attitude and spirit that makes all the difference between posers and real rockers.
Cannabis on stage.


Eventually Mike and this other guy got a small moshpit/circle thing happening but most of us were too timid for the rougher side of audience participation.


I lost half a beer down the front of my shirt when they came shooting past. That was okay. I was getting to that point in the evening when I crave cold water.
The way everyone cleared a path for them took me back to a night in the Horseshoe years ago when I made an ill-conceived move closer to the stage at a Reverend Horton Heat show just before they returned to the stage. There had been way too much moshing before and the boys had been playing rough. A lot of them showed up in retro fifties rockabilly gear, totally into it, and ready for a rumble. There had been a couple of fights. The bouncers earned their pay that night. The band returned to the stage and so did all the rockabilly fanatics. Crap. I thought they'd all gone home, worn out from crashing shoulders and butting heads. It must have been a pee break. The Rev. screamed "It's a psychobilly freak-out!" and I suddenly felt as helpless as Wile E. Coyote with the shadow of a giant rock growing around him. On cue, the rough boys exploded and the next thing I knew a hand reached out to the collar of my shirt and yanked me back to safety. Wow. It was a shaver. I looked back gratefully to this beautiful fast thinking young woman with warm angelic eyes and mouthed a sincere "Thank you." Never saw her again.

OK. Back to the present. Mexico. This is Rock Mata Pop. My spelling may be off.


Here's a video of Rock Mata Pop. It was recorded with my little Sony digital so don't expect wonders of sound and vision. The stage lights were dim but even if they weren't, these cameras aren't made for capturing live acts. Still, it's worth a peek even if it doesn't do the moment justice.

Playa Organo and how to get there

Playa Organo is one of our favorite beaches. It isn't large

but there's plenty of space to enjoy a bit of solitude. Few tourists show up unless they hire a charter boat. The ones that do don't tend to stay very long. Sometimes there isn't another soul there outside my circle of friends.

It's a clean beach for a reason. Some of my friends, the early birds, who are already in the water while I'm enjoying my first cup of coffee, scour the beach with bags and pick up everything left by the slobs too lazy to carry their own trash away. Just thought I'd mention that in case you follow these directions. If you're reading this blog, you're already cool in my books and I figure you know what to do. Some of these tourists are probably just as bad at home. I bet they don't even recycle.

So, other than investing in a charter boat, how do you get there? That's part of the fun. There is a 10 to 12 minute trail from the road to Maguey and Cacaluta about a third of the way from the last turnaround back to Entrega. Pictures tell the story a little better.

OK. Over this hill.

Watch out for the potholes. They start almost immediately over the lip of the hill but the worst are at the bottom. All the locals know about these natural speed bumps but they're easy to miss if you're not expecting them. I hit them pretty hard on the scooter once.



Ok. this is the part you're looking for.
It isn't very distinct from the rest of the road so look for the fallen tree.
If you happen to be there on Saturday, look for these scooters all chained together on the opposite side. They belong to me and the people I like to think of as my motorcycle gang and they provide a fairly regular landmark.

The first step is rather large. Take your time.
Duck your head under the fallen tree.

You've arrived at the arroyo. Turn right.
You have a pretty shaded walk ahead of you. You're bound to encounter a bit of wildlife along the way.







By the time you reach the sunny tall grass area, you're about 2/3rds there. It won't be long now.

Suddenly, tah-dah. You're there. Have an excellent day. Don't forget to take the trash back where it came from.