I got out of Mexico City for the holidays and went to paradise for Christmas. Paradise was Zipolite beach in the state of Oaxaca. It was warm and wonderful. No need for chimneys, so Santa enters through that hole in the rock.
The bus ride to get there was hell -- I missed my connection in Acapulco and had to spend the night. You think that sounds nice? I hate Acapulco!! It's a big dirty city screwing up a beautiful bay. The following day my 10-hour bus ride was spent next to a guy who sneezed and farted, simultaneously, every fourteen and a half minutes. Old Faithful was a pretty nice guy and let me sit next to the window to watch the jungle pass and contemplate life in between eruptions.
Zipolite turned out to be very rustic, very cheap, and perfect. OK, no air conditioning, the power worked intermittently, and toilets were a crap shoot -- but I'm not kidding about being perfect. There were fresh shrimp the size of chickens, men fought over who would accompany me to the nude beach, the sea (and the men) sensed my mood and would alternate between rough and peaceful, the sun kissed my skin but never burned, irritating Canadians were never able to get tables at my restaurants of choice, elderly Mexican ladies brought me sweet bread on the beach, their sons offered me coconuts filled with rum before massaging my back with suntan lotion, Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote a novel just for me to read in my hammock, a breeze would lift the low-hanging bougainvillea just over my head as I walked through the streets while Italian men offered me savory snacks and gelato, young Mexican men played guitars and sang under my window the songs they wrote (about me, of course), the moon was always full, and as I made love every night on the beach shooting stars fell from the sky into the eyes of my latest conquest.
There really are a lot of Italians here with restaurants and better pizza than I can find in Mexico City. And there really was this one Italian guy with a crush on me who would give me little snacks or gelato every time I passed by. OK, some of my description might be exaggerated -- the shrimp were only as big as a capon in actuality.
Here's a little section of the main street with the aforementioned low-hanging bougainvillea.
Zipolite has always been sort of counter culture and gay friendly. It was filled with lots of gay men for the holidays. Apparently a lot of us tend to run away during Christmas. Below is picture of one of those nice gay men. I call this picture, "Full moon as the sun sets." Mmmm Zipolite!!.
That reminds me, it's pretty butt-freezin' cold up there ain't it? Come visit and get the chill out of your bones. I can't promise this particular fellow will still be on the beach, but who knows?
Affectionately yours, GagginMexico. fmarlman@aol.com
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