Mosquito Coast

The road from Salina Cruz to San Agostinillo along the coast had more curves than a Gina Lollabrigida movie. We exited off highway 200 at Puerto Angel, the first of a string of beach towns, and headed straight to Mexico Lindo hotel in San Agostinillo, recommended by ex-pat David, the chef we met in Teculutla. By the time we got here, we were ready to unwind for a few days.

Well, a few days has stretched into several more days. It's so beautiful and restful here, we were in no hurry to leave, so after a few days in the hotel we found a pretty little cabana up the hill, across from the beach. It is cooler and
breezier than being right on the beach, and we have a little kitchen complete with stove and fridge. Now we are able to buy and cook our own food.

Paradise is not without its drawbacks, however. Our first night on the beach, we did not take the necessary precautions and spent the night swatting mosquitos. We scratched like monkees the next day - after counting over fifty bites each, I stopped counting.

David had what appeared to be several nasty bites on the edge of his hand, from the knuckles of his pinky to his wristbone. (I took pictures, but I don't think you want to see them!) They worsened, so he went to the doctor in the next beach town, Mazunte. It turns out that those were not mosquito bites, but infected burns from a bug that secretes an acid-like substance when it lands on you. He described the bug as a green beetle, and I remembered shooing one out of our room. Hopefully that will be our only medical outing.

The doctor was a mexican who was doing his one year of community service after getting his medical degree. The clinic was a community clinic where you pay what you can, and the donations go towards the running of the clinic.

Punte Cometa in Mazunte is reported to have the best view of the sunset, so one evening we ventured there. Were we in for a treat! Not only was the sunset beautiful, but while we were staring at the horizon, we saw whales jumping in and out of the water! Not possible to catch them on film, unfortunately. Apparently it is rare for them to come so close to the shore there.

David is happy snorkelling away the hot afternoons, looking for pirate treasures and unusual fish, while I re-build the callouses on my fingertips playing guitar on the terrace.

We sometimes hang out on the beach with Brigit and Paul, who have been traveling with their seven year old son, Domenic, since last June. We compare notes on the road of life, and funny stories about our spouses. We have invited them for a home-cooked paella dinner tomorrow night, their last night before flying back to Colorado, then to Ontario (Cambridge, I believe, which is about an hour south of our home!)

Not everyone who travels is on vacation. On any given day, people of all ages, from different cultures and walks of life, are traveling off the beaten track. Some people are on a 'mini retirement' like us, but there are many other reasons people are traveling around: snowbirds avoiding the winter, people looking to relocate,
others are searching for the meaning of life, and there are those who are just wandering around enjoying each day is it unfolds. We noticed there are many more Canadians than Americans here; one eighty year old man drove all the way from Ontario!

We are about a day's drive from the Guatemalan border and will be making our
way there in the next few days, once we get bored of the beach life. It is cheaper to stay in one place for some time rather than to keep moving, as the hotels on the road tend to be more expensive.

We are quite enjoying this off-the-beaten-track type of travel, though it's not
for everyone. The five-star resort vacations are comfortable and enjoyable, especially for a week or two. And while I have not experienced the other end of the spectrum - sleeping outside in a hammock just to be able to travel longer - some people are happy doing just that. I think I prefer a spot somewhere in the middle. I suspect that the amount of cultural and enriching experiences gained is somewhat proportionate to the degree of discomfort you are willing to endure and the risk you're willing to take. To a point, of course. Or maybe it's just a matter of taking baby steps outside of my comfort zone that makes me feel alive.

Chloe's Note:
I like it here. I am not a perro (dog), I am a mascota (pet), and good mascotas
go to fancy restaurants, hotels, enjoy nice walks on the beach, eat yummy treats,
and even sleep in a hammock! Herminigilda, the mascota who lives at the hotel,
is even starting to accept me! My morning run on the beach has turned into a game of eluding street dogs and chasing sand crabs to their holes. They are faster than I am so I never catch up to them, but I hear it's best not to catch crabs here anyways.