An unexpected soy flat white!!

Adrian riding the bike down to our cabin for the night - I told you, he loves this bike!

Adrian riding the bike down to our cabin for the night – I told you, he loves this bike!

29 August – Day 38

Playa Ventura, Mexico to Puerto Escondido, Mexico

Distance: 271kms (time on bike = 4.5 hours)

Puerto Escondido is our last beach stop for a while… so we happy to see that the beach was very swimmable! We left Playa Ventura early, which meant slightly easier riding (not as hot and less traffic). It also meant that we arrived in Puerto Escondido at noon.. so we had the whole afternoon to just swim/relax/look around. It seems funny to me that I’m excited about a whole afternoon of chilling out etc – but after almost forty days on the road, even an afternoon off can seem like a luxurious break. Effectively, motorbike riding is our “job” for now – and even when you like your job, some unexpected time off is usually well received!!

There are more tourists here – and the first gaggle of white people we’ve seen for a while. Which means it’s possibly less authentically Mexican. But it also means they serve soy flat whites… ah, you win some, you lose some!!

Three nights without biking – a trip record!

Sunset over the beach, Sayulita Mexico

Sayulita sunset

Sunset over the beach in Sayulita, Mexico

Sayulita sunset

23-24 August – Days 32 and 33

Sayulita, Mexico
Distance: 0kms

Our two full days off the bike started with both of us doing a 75 minute yoga class and then having a fresh fruit/vegetable smoothie. So good! Then it was down to the beach, to read/relax/doze/dig our toes in the sand etc etc.

First things first though; Adrian needed a new hat. Somehow, he’s already managed to lose two on the trip so far; the cap he brought over with him and its replacement. I don’t know how or where he does it – although I do know he hasn’t been leaving them in our hotel rooms; I do a sweep of the room just before we close the door behind us. They definitely haven’t been there; I do a proper ‘girl’ look; not just a ‘boy’ look!!!

Therefore the first order of business was to buy a hat to replace the replacement hat. And the task was achieved, although any chance we had of flying a little under the radar evaporated instantly: nothing screams “TOURIST” like a hat with the town’s name emblazoned across the front! To be fair, the chances of us going incognito were pretty low to begin with… what with our pasty white (and now slightly pink) skin and backpack, and distinct un-surfer look, it was pretty obvious we weren’t from the area. I did try to get Adrian to walk around in bare feet, without a shirt, with his boardies hanging so low that he could have been mistaken for a plumber bending over a drain, but he didn’t see the point: without waist length dreadlocks and a sleeve tattoo, it just wouldn’t have been convincing. And – he was right. This is definitely a surfer town, where refugee westerners seeking asylum from their mainstream western lives live alongside Mexicans working their butts off to obtain that from which the westerners had fled.

It’s an age-old conundrum: we want that which we do not have… and sometimes don’t realise that what we have (the western lifestyle; living in a Mexican paradise) is actually pretty good.

Anyway, we gave up trying to ‘look local’ and drank iced coffees at an espresso bar, had more smoothies, ate delicious Mexican food, walked on the beach, sat in lounges under an umbrella on the beach and  read, did Sudoku (ok, that was just me), read, people watched, read and so on. All the while, we were constantly engaging with the congo line of authorised beach sellers offering us anything and everything: beaded necklaces, earrings, silver jewellery, drugs, wise quotes selected by canaries in a cage, drugs, t-shirts, wooden carvings, salad bowls, drugs, carved and painted skulls, pastries, reflexology, friendship bracelets, sarongs, drugs, blankets, woollen throws, dresses, sunglasses, peanuts and more. We were at the beach for several hours on both days – and I’d guess we’d had about one approach every 3-5 minutes. Non stop. For hours! And we were polite to every one of them, with our ‘no gracias’ and attempts to explain that we had no luggage space as we are travelling ‘con moto.’

I said ‘authorised’ beach sellers as they obviously had to have some sort of licence or registration to sell on the beach, and they were wearing their ‘official’ authorised seller t-shirts. In this beachside town, where I’ve seen kids younger than 12 driving quad bikes on the street, where I’ve seen whole families cruising up cobblestone streets on one motorbike, where in a single day I was offered more drugs than in the rest of my lifetime combined, you need a licence to approach people on the beach. Wow.

All in all, it’s a pretty cruisy place. A combination of old and new; gringo and local. I’d say it’s more ‘touristy’ than ‘Mexican’ – yet still a nice place for a few days of downtime. Yoga twice daily certainly helped with that – and with helping to correct my ‘motorcycle gait’…

Nah, just kidding – I still walk normally (I think…).