San Agustinillo

On Monday Oct 18, Marc woke up reporting that he had "very bad news for us." He'd been looking at the weather on the coast during the night, and it was showing one thunderstormy day after another, our whole trip. We've gotten better about changing our trip on the fly, so we talked about flying somewhere else for those days, but it was the same weather system all over the Gulf Coast, and across this entire area of Mexico. What to do. Stay even longer in Oaxaca? We felt done with the place, really ready to leave. Finally we decided to just suck it up and take our chances and stick with San Agustinillo. 

The getting-here might well have been the highlight of this part of our trip! We flew on AeroToucan, a small enough airline that it wouldn't feed into our FlightView apps where we collect all the flights associated with a trip. We took it the last time we were in Oaxaca, to come to this area, so we knew to expect a small prop plane. Maybe our memories of the details had faded, or maybe this trip was a little extra, I don't know, but we started laughing when we were directed to the tarmac with no further instruction. This plane? That one over there? No idea. There were two small planes off to the far edge, so we assumed it was one of those, but which one? Finally, Marc walked up to the open cockpit door of one and asked the pilot, "Are you going to Hualtuco?" 

We were the first to board, and to get through the cabin to a seat I had to crouch so low I was practically bent over at the waist. We took two window seats on the left side, me in front, directly behind the pilot, and Marc right behind me. One passenger who had a seat decided instead to go sit next to the pilot, since, you know, there was no second pilot. We finally took off, and she informed the woman sitting next to me that the pilot was texting during the flight. All things considered, given that there were very thick white clouds for part of the short flight, it was just fine. The second-pilot-passenger asked the woman next to me to take a video of her holding onto the controls; I'm sure her hands were very lightly on the yoke (the "steering wheel"), surely they were. Surely. We started our descent and for a moment I thought we were going to be landing in a field, but then I saw the small airstrip. A quick up and down, and Bob's your uncle, we were in Hualtuco.

We'd reserved a car at Hertz, but for the second time in Mexico, our "reservation" was a sham. No cars. At least it wasn't Mexico City near midnight, like the last time. It turned out we really didn't need one after all, because the places we'd go are all lined up within walking distance along the main road, blending into each other. Still! I thought of that Seinfeld episode:

• Jerry : I don't understand. Do you have my reservation?

  Rental Car Agent : We have your reservation, we just ran out of cars.

  Jerry : But the reservation keeps the car here. That's why you have the reservation.

  Rental Car Agent : I think I know why we have reservations.

  Jerry : I don't think you do. You see, you know how to *take* the reservation, you just don't know how to *hold* the reservation. And that's really the most important part of the reservation: the holding. Anybody can just take them.

HERTZ. I shake my tiny fist at the sky and curse their name.

Those are our chairs

Our hotel, Casa Bagus, is owned and operated by a French woman named Manon, who opened her arms and said, "Welcome to my home!" Which was very nice the first time. She reminded me of NY Mayor Ed Koch who always stopped New Yorkers and asked how he was doing, because she kept asking us and others if we were enjoying her home, and if we were having a great vacation. One thing we especially enjoy about this hotel might seem silly, but it's that we have dedicated beach chairs just for us, reserved for our room. No need to nervously watch the beach early in the morning to see if we need to run out and grab two before they're all taken. Our room has a balcony with a hammock overlooking the wild, crashing sea. I could be a very happy woman listening to a crashing ocean outside my bedroom for the rest of my life. 

Sure enough, bad weather did come, in the form of a tropical weather system named Rick. The weather our first day was better than we'd expected -- overcast, sure, solid clouds, OK, but not one drop of rain. The next day the weather was heavy, looming, and the winds were up high, whipping the sea into a real frenzy. We mostly stayed in the room, watching the sea through our wide glass doors, with the sliding door open so we could hear the storm through the screen.

At one point my weather app notified me that I needed to pay attention, and when I opened the app, I understood what was going on. We are at the blue dot there in the photo.

But the next day was great -- the skies were clear and blue, by late morning, and it was hot. Marc tried to swim -- he's a much stronger swimmer than I am, and more enthusiastic about the ocean (me, I'm a beach umbrella lounger/reader) -- but even he struggled to get beyond the waves. It's a wild sea, the kind I really love as a sea-watcher, but Marc never really got to enjoy being in the sea as much as he'd hoped.

too hot for me

And that was kind of the theme of our stay here. Not as much as we'd hoped. We found some good food, but just as much neutral or bad. It was SO hot and I overheat so easily, so while I imagine Marc would've loved to walk through the towns, along the main road, back and forth with me, I was good for pointed round trips: to breakfast and back, to lunch and back, to dinner and back. One day it was so hot and muggy I thought I was not going to make it, which is such a shame because that's Marc's favorite kind of weather, but I just can't do it.

Finally, on our last day, we just kind of knew. We're both done with Mexico. We're due to leave tomorrow, flight from Hualtuco to Mexico City, rental car (hahahaha) to Queretaro for a couple of days, trip to Bernal for a couple of days, and then home on the 31st, but we're done. Maybe it's just that we are Southeast Asia people, or maybe it's that we're not young enough anymore for the things gringo tourists do in Mexico (this area heavily features white kids with dreds doing their 'spiritual' stuff). 

So plans are changed. Tomorrow we'll fly from Hualtuco to Mexico City as planned, but we'll spend the night there and late afternoon the next day fly home. We're losing money on reservations and stuff, but that mattered less to us than just calling the trip done and dusted. 

Best memory: For both Marc and me, our best memories involve the wildness of the sea, the enormity and power of the crashing waves. The waves smashing and crashing on the beautiful rocks, the endless strength and awe of them. This may be the main/only thing I remember specifically about San Agustinillo, but it's a beautiful memory to hang onto.

Both the shrimp and the pineapple wow

Best thing we ate: For Marc, it was the fish tacos at our hotel restaurant. For me, it was the coconut shrimp and pineapple compote at the restaurant at our hotel. The restaurant is owned separately and not part of Casa Bagus, but the dining area is part of the hotel. The people who run the restaurant were so kind and kind of adorable in different ways, but boy were they excellent at cooking seafood. We had tacos for lunch the day we arrived, and we never really found better food. I enjoyed two breakfasts and a dinner at a lovely little restaurant called Lodeli, but if forced to choose, I'd go with the coconut shrimp. The shreds were large and meaty and sweet, and the pineapple compote was warm, honey sweet with black sesame seeds. Gosh. My mouth waters remembering that meal. 

One more pair of photos, because they hold the morning feeling for me. The sun rose to the left side of our balcony, and I photographed it most mornings, but it was the right side that holds these memories for me.

Dawn to the east/left side of our balcony

Palm shadows and dawn light to the right side