New teacher - New tour- Huatulco 2013

It seems to have become a rite of passage for new teachers to take a quick tour on the back of the old Italika scooter. Each tour is a little different. Much as I'd like to take them everywhere, there isn't enough time in a single day.

Here is our newest recruit, Carmen, all the way from Virginia, the original home of John Carter from Mars, sporting the Sony Action Cam at the Tangolunda overlook.

The idea was that the person on the back of the scoot could get a better view of points of interest than the driver, who has to stare straight ahead for traffic and curves. It worked too but we had condensation problems and almost all of our footage looked like it had been taken on a foggy day.

The rainy season is almost all over. While it rained steadily in the mountains for most of the season, we didn't get much here in Huatulco until a few weeks ago. When it came, it came down hard for a full week. The canals gushed. Mud slid across roads and trees came down. A hard rain always causes potholes. We expect that but there are potholes and then there are potholes.



Drivers beware.



Our first stop was beautiful Bocana. Sadly this beach received some heavy damage. The seawall, which I believe is made of strong materials, had been battered to pieces during the hard rain.











Fallen trees from the hills, washed away with the soil that had sustained them, were everywhere.







I wasn't there when it happened but I suspect these trees battered the blazes out of the seawall when the water was much higher. La Bocana has periods every year when there is no beach to speak of, just brown wáter rushing against the wall over clattering rocks. But when it is good, this beach is pure gold. I have never seen it as wide as it was that day. A student tipped me off about the recent conditions but I couldn't have imagined just how vast it was. It is definitely worth the trip if you're in the area any time over the next few months.

There were only a few people when we arrived. There's a young woman reading a book under an umbrella.


Hey, wait a minute. She looks familiar. It's Yulma!



It was such a great chance for Carmen to start meeting some of her new colleagues. Plus I had Yulma to take care of the camera. I wanted to get wet too. Most of the upcoming pictures were taken by her.

This was Carmen's 3rd or 4th day in our town. She finally got wet.


We're already quite far out at this point.

Looking back.


Woo hoo! Body surfing!









Back at the shore, the water is a lot cooler in this little river channel. It's waist high on me at the deepest spots. If you lie down, the current whisks you away like a natural water slide park ride. Whee.





The tour continued but there are no more pictures.

Respect for rain and potholes.

We had an impressive rainfall on the last week before vacation. Those of us who hadn’t packed a change of clothes spent a wet afternoon in the office. I hadn’t realized how intense it could be. The walkway from my apartment to the parking lot was deeper than my shoes.

It was beautiful and sunny again by next morning, only two days remaining before vacation. As is too often the case, I left for work at the last possible minute, a bad habit I picked up not long after buying the Italika. It’s always an exciting race against the clock, full speed ahead, maneuvering strategically into the fastest lanes, passing all the sensible drivers; butterflies and other insects pinging and pocking off my visor. Thank God I bought that helmet. I didn’t get far.

The rain had ripped open enormous potholes everywhere. The one that sprang out at the lip of a hill and ended my ride might as well have been an open manhole. I hit it hard at 70 kmh. I wasn’t thrown off the bike but the rear tire went kaboom. Pushing that machine off the road was a struggle. In my head I was still racing the clock. I could grab a taxi and return for it at lunch hour. Reality sank in when I glanced at my watch. I was officially late and a day’s pay was gone. There were no classes. If I had to miss a day, I couldn’t have chosen a more convenient time for me and everyone else.

The scooter had been overdue for a tune-up for at least a month. I kept putting it off because I ride that scooter every day and I never like being without it even for a short while, especially since the same (presumably) thieves who took the front wheel of my bike came back and took the seat. That problem has since been solved by putting a lock on a metal gate but closing the barn door after the fact has left me without backup transport.


Damages to local roads have been so extensive that repairs are still underway and probably will be for quite some time. Remember that when driving around Huatulco and surrounding areas. Keep your eyes open.

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.

Spazz

The days of feeling timid on the scooter seem to be behind me. I have no illusions of being a great rider but, after a couple of- no wait, three- make that four- near disasters, I'm easing off on the throttle a tad. Even people who don't wear helmets themselves have been asking when I'm going to get one. The speedometer needle never reaches past 95 but another teacher, who tried and failed to pass me in her car on the way to work one morning, informed me I'd been doing well over 100. She also advised me to get a helmet and has been reminding me daily ever since.

I do a lot of joy-riding, just tearing along the roads with no particular destination. After splashing around La Bocana one Sunday with Will and Jasmine, I rode around for hours, checking out every little side road. Most of these exist just for scenic lookout points and are well worth the detour. I was going too fast after the steep hill between Entrega and Organo and completely forgot about the ginormous potholes. I hit a crater so hard the bike came to a hard stop. I shook and rattled a bit but I wasn't hurt and neither was the bike. If I'd been on the ten speed, I'd have been over the handle bars and spreading my skin across the asphalt.

My biggest daymares have always been about taking down an innocent bystander. That could have come true coming home around dusk last week. Between UMAR and town, is a split highway with 3 lanes each direction, perfect for ripping along like a rocket. I like to hang my mouth open and let the wind puff out my cheeks with tears pouring across my face. Fun. The only drawback is that the ride is over before Rancid can even finish playing "Some People Like Poison" and it's always way too soon to pull into the apartment block and park. Anyway, I was further to the right than necessary and I didn't notice this cyclist until I was much closer than I should have been. I probably wouldn't have clipped him but it was a solid wakeup call. I like to give cyclists lots more space than he had.

You know you're not a great driver when you almost plow yourself into the back of a parked bus. I was doing the max (maybe 110). I glanced in my mirror to double-check before changing lanes. Yep. Coast was clear. Whoa Nelly! In that quick glance, I'd covered a shocking amount of ground. I was right on top of that bus. I am a bad bad driver.

Worse than the mega-pothole was the big fat wasp that slapped my face and planted a stinger just below my eye at 80 kmh. I managed not to spazz completely and pulled over to the side. I peeled it off my face and its legs were still kicking. Ow. Ow. Ow. I felt like I'd been punched hard but I knew I could still punch the clock on time so I revved up again with a primal scream of frustration and pain that could be heard over the motor.

I had a sense of deja vu. It's been almost a year since the bicycle accident in Korea. Again I was heading to work with a swollen left eye. The damage wasn't as bad as I feared. I punched in and knocked on the medico's door. He gave me a prescription for anti-inflammatories or something. I don't know. By about 2 in the afternoon, it stopped hurting every time I smiled so I just put some ice on it when I got home.

I've been wanting to change apartments for a while now. I've never been quite content with the place but laziness and apathy have me kept me where I am. On days when I should be on the hunt for new digs, I tell myself that the place isn't so bad, in spite of the stupid carpet, the ugly peeling paint from the ceiling leak that took a month for the landlord to fix (the paint and paster may never be replaced), the non-working air conditioner, the toxic moldy cupboard, the ugly furniture. At least it's livable. But it keeps deteriorating and the owners never bother to do anything. This might have gone on indefinitely if it hadn't been for the blackout.

One night the power went out in several buildings for a few hours. Eventually it came back for everyone but me. Even the people above me had it but I went to sleep without a fan.

William thought I might not have paid my power bill. They don't wait too long down here. But I hadn't received a bill. No matter. Sometimes they get lost. OK. I went down to the power company (CFE)on my lunch break. They told me I hadn't been cut off and that the bills hadn't been sent out. I ended up paying a week early. I thought I understood the bulk of what the lady told me but I got Mike and Rowena on the phone to talk to her. When the power went out, the big fuses had had probably blown on the power box. Mike came right over to the apartment and I followed him through downtown traffic to a hardware store.

The first time we were separated in traffic, I was behind a young guy with an identical scooter to my own who said he'd had his for over a year without a single problem. Yay.

Mike installed the new fuses. No luck. A neighbor came by to help. Same result. I called the Residencial Chahue administrator. They would send someone over right. away. Eventually we had to go back to work and nobody had arrived. I stopped at the administrative office to ask about the holdup and the secretary promised me "Una hora mas". That was ominous. The last time I had a promise like that from these people, it was a week later before I saw any action. This time was no different. I was without power for a full six days and nights. A lot of food turned ripe and dangerous. I could rail on but you get the picture.

Some friends have said they liked the old dump and diudn't mind the nasty old carpet but they have never had to wake up to the place. What seems rustic and charming with a few drinks under the belt is just rotten and dirty when you smell it in the morning. The good times some of us have shared there had nothing to do with the locale and everything to do with the company. I know I won't feel sentimental about the mold.



Anyhow, I have a beautiful new apartment to move into tomorrow. It's clean and well maintained and basically the same price as the old one. It's going to be great.