Me disculpo que esto no está todavía en español, pero no me prohibo más hora. Mire por favor las fotos chascando en las fotos pequeñas el derecho –>

So much more is yet to come, but I wrote this a while back, and am just posting it…don’t forget to check out the new photos –>

¡Enjoy! ¡Disfruta!

We’re home! That is to say, we’re in Chacahua, and we really feel like we are home. We’ve seen such great places all along this trip, but as we rode our bikes the 30 mile stretch down the washboard sandy dirt road, traversed the lagoon by launcha and landed at Josefina and Francisco’s house, we knew we were in the one place in the world closest to our hearts, especially when we can hear over the little town’s loud speaker: “¡TELEFONICA! ¡!@#$%^&*@#$%^&*! ¡TELEFONICA!”

Francisco’s (Chico’s) whole family greeted us with hugs and kisses. We immediately greeted the ocean with a big naked body slam. Josefina cooked us the food we had been craving for the last 4 years, took part in some great recreational sports, racked in some points on our beer tab, then promptly passed out for the night. And since we hadn’t slept in 2 days, we slept very sound.

We’ve learned this from experience: it’s never easy to get to Chacahua. Its no wonder no one wants to leave when they get here. You undergo quite the adventure getting here, utilizing no less than 3 forms of transportation, many many hours, and unexpected twists and turns from beginning to end. The first time Jesse and I were here, we left our friend Leo’s house in the north of Oaxaca by van, then by mini van (VW vanagons) to public buses (yes, the chicken-tied-to-the-roof style), to taxi, to launcha (boat), to cargo truck. When Jesse drove down with the infamous Cyrus Burch, they drove the back way, at night, through San Jose Del Progresso and down the aforementioned dirt road, through a torrential down pore limiting Jesse’s vision so much that he almost drove right into the lagoon. This time, we bused from Lázaro Cárdenas in Michoacan leaving at 3pm. We arrived 14 hours later in San Jose D.P. at 5am. We road out of town on bike and took a wrong turn in the pitch black sending us an hour in the wrong direction. But it was an amazing ride through the middle of coco, papaya and banana groves, along a huge canal. We watched the thin sliver of the moon rise right next to the constellation Scorpius just minutes before the sun rise. So we made it to the launcha a couple hours after sunrise, and to our palapa home by the time of 2nd breakfast (¡Frodo Vive Eternamente!). With no sleep, no food, and a very long bike ride on a very bumpy road, the many bruises, scrapes, and muscle cramps made our happiness that much more of a delirious euphoria. Nevermind the fact that we got lost, that I got my bike stuck in the sand and crashed multiple times, our loads came loose, once tossing our boom box down the road like a bowling ball, and on top of all that, Jesse’s seat breaking right off the post. Thank the bike gods that he had an Xtracycle, which allowed him to sit back on top of his load and finish the ride to the launcha. ¡¡WE’RE STOKED FOR CHACAHUA!!

There are so many aspects about Chacahua that I was overjoyed to be reminded of. Things like how the air is so clean and easy to breathe no matter the temperature, how perfectly serene the beach and water are, and how dark-skinned the locals are, being descendants from Africans. Plus, the local people here are different from so many other places we’ve been, because they actively participate in the beach scene just as much as the travelers do. So often, especially on the beaches, the local Mexicans don’t swim in the water, don’t hang out on the sand, don’t play on the water in boats or kayaks, and just take their surroundings for granted, staying close to their homes or businesses. But here, the kids surf, the families hang out in the palapas and restaurants, they cruise around the lagoon in row boats, kayaks or canoes, they make friends with visitors that find themselves lucky enough to be here. That’s just it: the locals and visiting travelers don’t separate themselves from each other. We all enjoy Chacahua to it’s fullest. There was even a local kid wearing a shirt yesterday that he made by hand, cutting out the stencil and spray painting “¡Que Bonita Es Mi Chacahua!” with palm trees and everything!

However, I will miss La Manzanilla, mostly for the people. Each person we met was such a character, it was just like living on the stage of a theatre. I’ll always remember how “La Pirata-the Pirate” Carlos would greet people as they walked by the stick on the beach or by the campground, saying in perfect english: “Welcome to the jungle.” Perfect english was not a typical characteristic of Carlos’, but he tried hard, and he did well, but we still made fun of him just for kicks. He had a great sense of humor. He gave Jesse the nickname of “Jaimes” (as in Jesse James) and myself, “Garcia” after an Argentinian singer, Charlie Garcia. (For those of you who still didn’t catch it, I’m going by Charlie on this trip because I have a hell of a time with my given name Sherilyn). In turn, Jesse called Carlos “Qiunto,” the name of a Mexican candy bar, and I called him “Santana.” A few times he would bust out singing when people were playing guitars, and he was really damn good! So if we weren’t visiting with Shanti and Mayama, we were hanging out with Carlos and the guy-with-the-only-non-VW-in-the-VW-camp, Don. Don was a crack up! He was so even keel, so mellow, so relaxed, and so happy to do absolutely nothing in particular.

The four of us would start our days off drinking coffee and smoking in his RV for a few hours (Jesse’s picked up his “I only smoke cigarettes in Mexico” habit, and hey- it’s damn cheap to smoke down here!) then go out to the beach and sit on the stick (Carlos’ english word for log) and watch the sun rise over the ocean and the whales playing at the mouth of the bay. Later we’d usually either cook dinner over Carlos’ fire pit or walk into town to the “Chop Chop,” the best taco stand in La Manzanilla, run by a man and his cross-dressing son. That in itself was awesome! I couldn’t believe the locals went for it, a cross-dresser running the best food racket in town. So one night after eating at Chop Chop with our friend Valerie, we decided to go back to the house she was renting and check out her balcony view overlooking the whole town and beach. Valerie was visiting from Bainbridge Island in Washington (hear that Aunt Karen!) and was with us for a couple weeks. Valerie had such a royal presence about her, with her slight english accent left over from growing up in England, and the way she would flow with whatever situation she found herself in. So happy, so glowing, she put a genuine smile on everyone’s face… oh yes, where was I? In the dark night, fat and lazy from dinner, half drunk, we were walking shoulder-to-shoulder, rambling on about something, and Jesse turns to Don for his response, and sees only the obscured figure of Don suddenly disappearing straight down off the road! We hadn’t quite comprehended that he fell into an 8 foot deep drainage ditch, when we hear him say in the most calm and matter-of-fact tone: “Oh shit, I’m in the ditch now guys.” We were laughing so hard that we could barely muster the strength to pull him out! AND, he didn’t spill any of his beer!!! Luckily there were exposed pvc pipes running parallel to the road which caught him by the armpits!

Ah yes, and then there were Anaxazi and Mona, who own the Artis, a gallery, lounge, and bar. They had just opened right before we got there. Super cool people. Anaxazi’s got a hell of a life story, a latino growing up in Chicago and coming to terms with his own life and death at a very young age, leading him from pro fútbal material to incredible artist. His sweetheart wife “Monita Bonita,” as their son Aguilla calls her, is a tall beautiful polish woman. Together with his dark sculpted features of Egyptian, Native American & Latin descent and her elegance & charm, they are remarkably striking to behold.

So I spent alot of time at the Artis, drinking cappuccino, mochaluas (mocha cappuccino, Kahlua and Baileys!), and learning about Anaxazi’s dream to create an eco-community on a huge chunk of jungle he purchased just a couple miles from the beach. A group of us hiked up to this property one day to check it out. He is selling pieces of it to people who want in on the action and who have the same intentions. That was fun to learn about, and to know that there will be work to be had once the building begins! Jesse was stoked about that. I was also working on a couple of photo projects with the gallery, one I finished, but one would be ongoing. I think I mentioned the brochure for the whole Costa Legre area. They want to print new ones every 6 months. So there’s work for me too! But hanging out at the gallery for the belly dancers, or for fresh baked apple pie in the morning, or Sushi night on Saturdays was some of the best time spent in La Manzanilla. Jesse would usually be with me, but he had quite the adventures elsewhere in town.

We met a father and his two sons, whom we called “El Prizmaticos,” who lived just up the road. Geraldo, the sweetest kindest old man I’ve ever met, and Keenan and Noe are a family musical group. Geraldo plays beautiful wooden flutes, and his sons play guitars and sing traditional indigenous music. Jesse fit right in with his bass guitar, and after jamming once on “the stick,” he was an official part of the family! They would all go around to the restaurants and play music and pass the hat for change, and at the end of the night they would buy dinner and drinks for everyone that was with them. Geraldo would always say in his broken english (for my benefit only, he hated english) “I love my life. I have my sons, our music, a house and food. I am so happy. This is all I need.” His presence constantly reminded me that you really need very little in life to be truly happy. They had hardly anything but a tiny concrete shack, the clothes on their back, and their instruments. They were a blast to hang out with.

There were so many more amazing people, including Louie and Julie and their kids from Quebec, who live in La Manz for months at a time in their bus home. She is am amazing artist, painting and carving and dancing, and him with his coconut shell polishing hobby and knowledge on just about everything you could ever think to ask him. Julie painted the board on my xtracycle too! Its awesome! Hey Louis - will you email those photos to me? And one of my favoritest new friends, Kalina. We were bound to meet. The connection with her is the stuff that tells the stories of fate. The first time I saw her was a night in the town center selling her jewelry. She had the sweetest face, and a natty dread reminiscent of the Blackheart Mon himself. We talked for just a bit, and knew we would run into each other again. The next day I took a bike ride down the beach, and spotted her doing yoga, but didn’t want to interrupt her. But as I rode by, she ran out and called me, and we stood there for what must have been close to an hour, talking about all kinds of life’s twists and turns. That’s why I liked her immediately. No bullshit, just real life.

Jesse and I didn’t know how long we were staying in La Manz, and Kalina was taking a trip to Mexico City for a week, but we both hoped to meet up again. As it turned out, we didn’t leave La Manz for a month, so when Kalina came back we spent a good amount of time sharing reggae music that she got in the city, yoga, jewelry making, eating, and talking and talking about where we were in these moments in our lives. I really feel like we were brought together to walk with each other through these crazy times, if for nothing else but to be a sounding board for the other. I know we’ll keep in contact, and I know I’ll see her again soon - right Kalina!!!

……………………

Back at Chacahua, a few days later….

I’d like to say that I’ve sat in the hammock for the last three days simply because I’ve just been that lazy, but alas, I’m not that lucky. I finally caught it. What it is, I can’t say for sure. Call it the flu, call it food poisoning, bad water, a curse - but all I know is, my huge appetite that bike riding had brought on, yeah well, that’s history. So is my craving for fish tacos. You know what I’m saying. But it’s all good. At least I’m in my favorite place, and I can just chill in a hammock all day in the shade and watch the waves crashing in.

a few more days later….

…after a week of taking it easy, everything is back to normal. Jesse took a weekend trip into Puerto Escondido to sell CDs, and I stayed here to work on a photo project. Jose Antonio “Toño” is starting his 2nd book about Chacahua and he needs photos. His first book is a collection of stories that he recorded from the local people, but with no photos. So he wants lots of photos for this one…

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