las moscas!

If you're like me and know very little Spanish beyond cerveza, tacos, and enchiladas, maybe you don't know that "las moscas" means "the flies." And boy have we had a lot of encounters con las moscas. At our hotel, breakfast is served on the largest palapa, right by the pool and overlooking the ocean. Up in the peak of the palapa is a ceiling fan, and the ocean breezes flow through the palapa -- maybe this is why we didn't encounter them at breakfast on our first morning. Also: it's very clean.

But yesterday we ate breakfast and dinner in town, and for both meals (and at dinner the night before) we were swarmed with flies -- from the moment we sat down, but especially once our food arrived at the table. Last night was the worst, by far; there were looming storm clouds out over the ocean, scattered raindrops, and lightning in the clouds with occasional booms of thunder, so we were a little worried about going into town for dinner. If we were going to have dinner, though, we'd have to walk into town, so off we went, umbrellas in hand. The place we wanted to go wasn't open for an hour, and we didn't feel comfortable waiting since the storm was just looming right over there, so we picked a little place that looked ok. Marc ordered garlic octopus, and I ordered shrimp ceviche, and we got guacamole. (Sidebar comment here: that was the best guacamole I've ever had in my entire life. It was exactly the way I prefer it, slightly chunky with avocado, and filled with chopped tomatoes and onion and lots of cilantro, and squirted with fresh lime juice. I don't like the pureed stuff.)

Anyway. We sat waiting, waving off flies, and then our food came and we were swarmed. I think I have a reputation for exaggeration, but there's no way to exaggerate the swarming. The owner brought an electric fan to the table to try to blow the flies away but it didn't work. I felt like Tippi Hedren in The Birds, and like I was racing to see who would eat more of my ceviche -- me, or the flies. I'm a fast eater, but I ate in record time. It was maddening, and I felt like I had to keep my mind straight or I could've become overwhelmed and gone crazy. Our main courses weren't as good as the guacamole, but they were good enough.

No post yesterday because we were just too busy doing nothing but swimming (ocean and pool), napping (Marc) and reading (me), walking, relaxing, talking. And it was the same as the day before. The ocean was too rough for me, and in fact I hated it (and was still digging sand out of random places a few hours later), but Marc had a blast and I enjoyed watching him. I enjoy walking at the edge of the surf, and watching the ocean from a distance, but the force is too overwhelming for me. Today the sky is dark off to the left, but lighter to the right so who knows what the weather will hold. Whatever happens, we'll relax one more day here in this paradise, and then be up and at 'em very early in the morning for our flight back to Oaxaca. We've decided to come back here next spring, for a week, it's really so wonderful. Casa Pan de Miel, if you're interested.....

Aerotucan to Puerto Escondido to Mazunte

We got up reluctantly at 5:20 this morning because the collectivo was picking us up at 5:45 to take us to the airport. When we got there, we learned that no, Aerotucan doesn't leave from the main airport, there's a tiny little building and runway over there, to the right. We'd packed a few things in backpacks and left our suitcases behind in Oaxaca, so we walked over to the small building and eventually boarded the tiny little plane. We had to crouch low inside the plane and duckwalk to our seats; the plane could hold 11 passengers and the lone pilot (no co-pilot in this operation), and it was a nearly full flight, us and 7 others.

we've been in smaller planes, but not very often.

mountains along the runway, blanketed with morning clouds

we flew pretty low over the crumpled mountains

When we got to Puerto Escondido, we still had a one-hour taxi ride to Mazunte, where we have a room for three nights at Casa Pan de Miel (Gingerbread House, I think, though there's nothing fluffy Victorian about it, at all). It's stunning, and we'll be coming back next year for sure. We have full access to the kitchen and the fridge ("you Americans love ice"), and our room overlooks the ocean, with a big terrace out front complete with a hammock and two lounge chairs. I keep thinking I'm in Night of the Iguana (except for the drunk ex-pastor, the dead grandfather, and the rum cocos....but there are iguanas, and I wouldn't be surprised to see Ava Gardner dancing with young men and maracas down on the beach).

that's the pool in the foreground with a bird on the edge, and the Pacific

the view off to the left

Since we got up so early and didn't have coffee or breakfast, we started our time here with a wonderful meal -- Marc had huevos rancheros and I had fruit and yogurt with homemade granola (complete with pepitos and lots of other seeds, in addition to normal granola stuff. YUM.)

huevos rancheros on handmade corn tortillas.

and this is our cabana, awfully shady in this picture because the sun was overhead.

We spent a long time in the pool, and then lounging in the sun -- we're both a little burned but it feels so good after our sequestered, hard winter. There's a lot to do here: hike down to the beach, walk into town, swim, relax, eat, repeat. That's more than enough for me. :)