Mexican Pipeline

After a week in the country I finally learned how to spell Guatemala correctly. But by then it was time to chicken-bus back up to Mexico. I stopped one night in Xela on the way, where the whole town was engrossed in watching the Guatemala vs. Mexico World Cup match. In the town square there was a projected screening of the game in front of a huge crowd (that sang along to the national anthem before the game) and as I walked down every dark street I could hear the same television commentary blaring from every window. Mexico won 2-0, so there were a lot of glum faces later in the evening. At the border I tried to get a night bus to Puerto Escondido but it was already full, so I ended up going to Oaxaca instead. Not quite as picturesque as San Cristobal, but charming nonetheless. In my enfeebled state I opted for a full day mini-van tour and dutifully took pictures of the world's widest tree in Tule, and sweated around the ruins at Mitla, sampled too many of the offerings at the fabrica de Mezcal and got a stomach ache, and talked myself into buying a nice handmade rug in Teotitlán del Valle. At the end of the day I was enjoying the panorama from a rock pool at about 8000' looking out over a vast valley next to the mineral-formation 'waterfall' of Hierve el Agua.

Today I am in Puerto Escondido, home of the famous pipeline surf break, sweating in the humid shade (33'C/95'F). I had hoped to be able to try a little surfing again here, but I can barely swim right now with my arm injuries. But I have a good book and when there's a nice sea breeze I am quite content under an umbrella sipping una limonada or perhaps one or two cervezas later in the afternoon.