Tag: travel

Bahias de Huatulco, Mexico: Dos Gringas Rojas

Disclaimer: This trip occurred exactly one year ago.  Since Travelpod does not allow you to export blogs, I shall be bringing them to you in real time, just a year later.

August 3, 2010

To the beach! Our trip to the airport at Huatulco was an absolutely breath taking 35 min flight in a 12-seater tiny plane. On our arrival at an outbuilding at the Oaxca airport–“Terminal X” as I like to call it–was, in truth, a little desk with an Aerotucan sign and some chick (who showed up about 45 minutes late) with a net book, hand written receipts and a calculator. Our bags were searched by hand, and baggage handling, staircase moving, and air traffic control (in the form of a thumb’s up) was also handled a mano. Awesome. The flight was super cool and extremely preferable to the alternative-an 8-hour bus ride through a couple of mountain ranges.

Our first move in Huatulco? Well, after picking up the rental car it was straight to the beach. That’s right. We went to the beach. Near the equator. With no sunscreen. In my defense, we did stop at a farmacia and I felt that the $166 pesos for anything over 30-proof was just a shameless plot to take advantage of white people. In hindsight, maybe it would have been worth the expense–since after five hours at the beach, a couple of lobsters walked into the Mexican equivalent of Wal-Mart and only spent three dollars less for some 45-SPF banana scented sun screen.

Note to self:

next time I go on a tropical vacation, invest in sunscreen state-side…..

At any rate, we are embracing our raccoon eyes and red shoulders–although a little wiser today by lathering up with gringa lotion and ready to face la playa once again. This time, Nancy is a day older and a year wiser (it’s her birthday).

Oaxaca City, Mexico: Arts, crafts, & hanging meat

Disclaimer: This trip occurred exactly one year ago.  Since Travelpod does not allow you to export blogs, I shall be bringing them to you in real time, just a year later.

August 1, 2010

I’m told that Oaxaca City is the “capital” of the South, well, in truth, my Moon handbook told me this, and it’s the southernmost capital city (being the capital of the state of Oaxaca) excepting the capital of Chiapas, in Mexico. With all due respect to Chiapas, I’m not going there, so this would be the south-est I have ventured thus far. Even so, Oaxaca City is exceedingly mild-boasting mostly spring-like weather all of the time. It is essentially the same as San Francisco (cool mornings, warm afternoons, and cool evenings). This is all thanks to the city sitting in a big valley with mountains on all sides and makes for a great walk and a challenging wardrobe selection.

Since I missed an entire day due to some difficulties at George Bush airport I pounded the pavement shortly after breakfast. I visited the zocalo and a series of authentic markets (Benito Juarez and 20 de Noviembre) as well as a number of artisans markets. Oh my, the bounty. More cheese than the eye can behold. Fresh fishies, meat hanging on sticks and being grilled in front of you on open barbecues, breads, and fruit and veggies. Being of an American constitution, veggies were out of the question, but we did make out with some Oaxacan cheese, avocados, and a hot chocolate to die for that came with free bread.

On my way back through the zolcalo we stopped for some street food: a couple of ladies still in their Sunday best making tortillas in front of our eyes and heating them with some sort of black bean mixture, chilis, and queso fresco.

Lunch was at the zocalo for some awesome enchiladas and mole, where I was lucky enough to witness some street musicians rocking out Cold Play on the marimba. Best mole to date.

Throughout the city were scatterings of various arts and crafts stalls and a good portion of the day was spent admiring the handiwork of the people of Oaxaca City; my favorite stop has to have been MARO, a collective of Oaxacan woman artists who receive support from the government and produce absolutely amazing work. Along the route I came across these strange and funny looking fuzzy fruits that taste like grapes. The vendor gave out samples and said that he picked them himself near the border of Chiapas. Perfect! I’m not going to Chiapas, but they’ve got some yummy fruit. 1/2 kilo por favor!

I swear I did not spend the entire day eating… but at around 4pm after walking all day long I needed a cup of coffee. Badly. Although skeptical of any shop or restaurant with a name in English words, the instant I stepped into “Coffee Beans” it started to rain. Correction. Downpour. Well, it looked as though I’d be at Coffee Beans for awhile. Despite the all-American line-up of pop and hip hop music, I had a delightful time at Coffee Beans; I sat right by the door, watched the rain, and laughed at the occasional tourist in a white t-shirt taking refuge in the doorway and then guiltily moving on.

Upon return to Los Mariposas (our B & B), I took refuge on the gorgeous patio with a plate of bread, cheese, fuzzy fruit, and avocado with a sixer of Tecate. Excellent, excellent day.

Travel Bug: Civitavecchia, Italy

 

Travel to Europe is long and at times stressful, but the journey to Civitavecchia was totally worth it.  A somewhat worn-out seaside town, the views from almost anywhere are beautiful here.

Upon arriving in Rome, you board a train out to Civitavecchia, usually for the express purpose of docking a cruise ship a day later, and this trip was no exception.  Having traveled for about 30 hours without sleep, we walked from our charming bed and breakfast up into the town for take out pizza (post-afternoon nap, of course).  The shop was filled with locals, which meant that this was going to be great pizza.  In fact, we hadn’t encountered any American tourists in this town at all.

We stayed the night at Bed and Breakfast Casamica, which has only two rooms.  The other room was occupied by a friendly family from Madrid, who we ended up chatting with for a couple of hours over a bottle of wine and a slab of prosciutto as the sun set.  Our room lead out onto a patio shaded by an overhead lattice of grapevines and a beautiful view of the Mediterrean Sea.  Unlike the other seaside port areas I’ve been to, this town appears to be unaffected by the influx of American tourists that take over every summer.  Maybe I’m just deluding myself, since Civitavecchia is the main port to Rome after all, and, I’m assuming, innundated by tourists during the high season.  But this particular day, I saw few people who looked American (i.e. wearing Nikes and fanny packs), and heard virtually no English.  Although the local venders and business owners don’t appear overly annoyed if you don’t speak more than five words in Italian, they also don’t cater to tourists…. There are no golden arches jutting into the sky over the red roof tops, no run-of-the-mill cheap souvenir shops with stupid t-shirts reading “I got drunk in Civitavecchia”…. you get the idea.   The point is, I’m sure there are far more charming and “Italian” small towns out there, but the view and close proximity to Rome definitely make it worth a visit, perhaps during a few week days that all the cruise ships are at sea.