We’re in Zipolite Oaxaca, Mexico
Dawn…it’s colored peach again.
We meet our neighbor from the next room next door. He has offered us a tour of what he describes as a particularly special place, to him. He guarantees that we will thank him profusely, once we make our visit.
There is a quiet dirt road leading out to the main highway. A few hundred feet and we are entering one of the camionetas (May have spelling incorrect) at the depot. It is a group of blue trucks that have a Calistoga wagon look about them. One is leaving; our timing is perfect.
We squeeze into the bed of this converted pickup truck after climbing over the closed tailgate. On each side, there is a row of bench seating. Their wooden planks are not associated with the normal contours of our butts. The pickup bed is slippery and the road, which is filled with curves, is taken as fast as the truck will carry its load down a hill. It is not so quick going up the steep jungle slopes.
The roadside scenery is charming, coastal forest, tropical farming, fruit and simple homes. We pass the tortoise museum and St. Augustine’s mile long beach, getting dropped off at a corner in the town of Azunte.
A cobble stone charade takes us to our tour’s benefactor’s favored bakery. We stand in a line here in Azunte, for quiche Lorraine and veggie cheese tortas heated in a waffle iron. A step at the curb becomes our dining room, with other patrons. Everybody has an accent, or a foreign language. Azunte is a tourist town, hip and young.
After our breakfast, we stroll down the street making a steep climb up a side street, which leads …