Posts Tagged With: Mexico

2020 Ziploite #11: Last HAhrrah!

Feb. 2020

 

The airline cancelled our flight. The choice was on the beach in Zipolite, or cooped up in a hotel in Mexico City.

We’ve got an extra day in Zipolite! We weren’t ready yet, so says the cosmos. The lesson to learn is about surrender to what is and trusting in the divine hand of grace doing whatever it will. Well, through rearranging a slew of reservations on a phone/internet system that wouldn’t cooperate in my Spanish and dashing the class that DF was to take that Sunday, it was figured out that accepting was the best tactic. I’ve been stranded in much worse places than this paradise.

The extra time, well spent, is sure to work out correctly.

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2020 Zipolite: Natures Dance

Feb. 2020

 

Nature’s Dance:

Great angular blocks, layers and deposits form jagged cliff sides. Beyond, a tunnel has taken several millennia of carving with the pressures of a funnel to create. Waves of white foam wash through at high tide, torrential and potent, but they are slow, very slow to make a mark.

Among the dark wet rocks are chutes and whirlpools. Great waves are constantly changing their intensity, their track and their tack.

Submerged rocks can be clearly seen, exposed by a tidal current and then again, under masses of foam and crystal assure blue.

We wander down the beach in among the daily ritual of sunset, the rolling crests of foam form their pipe-like tunnels. Soon, they will be streaking across the deep shadows, making their own glow in the din with the moonlight and stars. Tonight, the lights of the Hotel Nude will provide a yellow hue, creating golden waves in black waters reflecting diamonds in dark skies.

Still endlessly hitting those cliffs and outcroppings, those chutes of water pound and thunder. Sometimes, they fan out, spraying higher than the spouts of great whales. A salty cloud of mist forms and we see it float to the sandy beach.

Where a rock sits exposed, launched by the power of a wave, grand fountains shoot high in remarkable swirls and twists.

They scatter and then return to the soft more quiet brine, now in their time, they are stretched out below.

We stand in the back splash from a resting power that has been spent on an assault at the sandy shore. Again and again, we hear thunder and power as nature plays and dances.

Drumming His Prayer

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2020 Zipolite: A hike in Cometa Preserve

2020-02-25

 

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.

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2020 Zipolite #7 : A Romantic Dinner

2020-02-25

 

We’re in Zipolite, Oaxaca, Mexico.

DF and I spend the early afternoon in our quarters, sleeping and listening to the pound of the waves on the beach.  After siesta, we take care of our bills and slip on some light clothing, she a thin dress and me a sarong. We plan to have a snack and walk nude on the beach for sunset.

We stop at a familiar restaurant. It is still too early to open. We’ll come back later. A block up the street there is another place that we know. We have a torta filled with baked veggies together.

We snap a few pictures along the way and then take the first alley to the beach, stopping at the end to disrobe. It is liberation to drop all and wander out onto the public beach. We pass a few kindred souls. Dogs play, frisbees are passed and soccer balls bounce. Everyone has an activity.

The ocean sneaks up on us a couple of times and recedes, leaving the bubbling tiny holes of crabs. We take opportunities to capture photos of the sunset and our joy.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. We’ll know when we get there. As far as we can, I guess.”

The sentiment is returned. We stroll off free ranging naked hand in hand.

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2020 Zipolite #2: Look Ma, No Hands!

There I was no sh…

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2020 Zipolite #1: A Morning in Zipolite

I have been away. I have been on a beach writing. I have much to catch up with. The stories of Zipolite will not come at a usual pace, and most will not read like my more familiar “Trip Report” format. I’ll probably just use the material like salt and pepper sprinkled into my list of other free range wanderings. This is the first, a haphazard #1, in a series.

At About Sunrise:

DF has run off to a yoga class with a new acquaintance. I don’t follow instructions well. Keep me out of a ballroom dancing class. I stay behind to my own devices.

I take my sarong down to that gentle slope which falls to the waves, where they hit the beach.

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