We lucked out with accommodations in Puerto Escondido (that’s “providenced out” for all my hardcore reformed readers) in that we were far away from the tourist epicenter of the little town. El Barko del Amor (the loveboat) hostel was owned and run by a group of Italians who gave the heartiest “Holaaa!”s I’ve ever heard. It was a wonderful place where Jim Morrison of “the Doors” was evidently a patron saint and whose customer constituency was also mostly Italian (except for the decidedly Mexican bedbugs).
James was able to rent a tabla (yeah, surfboard) and hit the waves and I was able to spend some time reading, reviving my computer, washing clothes, and reorganizing all my gear for the triumphal arrival to Cuernavaca.
After fixing dinner on the beach, chillin’ in the hammocks, sampling Italian café, and shopping at the Super Che, it was time to wish all the Italians goodbye and take the night bus to Acapulco and after a relaxing morning in that fading playground of the rich and famous we took the breathtaking journey north to Cuernavaca, Morelos, Mexico.
That’s where I am now.
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