Ecotouring Oaxaca: Cuajimoloyas

We've stayed at a lot of little cabins in the woods in Oaxaca, including the major ecotourism sites of Ixtlan de Juarez and Apoala, as well as the lesser-visited spots of Llano Grande and, most recently, Cuajimaloyas.

Last weekend, we met with 17 others people to trek around and explore Cuajimoloyas. This place is distinctive. You enter through the little pueblo which, for us, meant cutting through thick, gorgeous fog that left dewdrops clinging to young pine trees and vines. A roadside wood building houses the local agency where you sign in and pay for your access fee. Here is where you can also pay for guides to take you on the five-hour hike or the three-hour hike, as well as a few others. There is a zip line over a canyon for 200 pesos, or a shorter zip line in the forest for 40 pesos. Because we were with Oaxacans who know the area, we chose no guide and to stay in the more accessible part of the forest, which held cabins and even little wood shack comedors with women cooking blue-corn quesadillas and brewing Oaxacan hot chocolate (and even good coffee, I'm told).

Everyone sat down for breakfast in the midst of what felt like a relatively young forest--I'm guessing that we were in "recovering from clear-cut" territory. The kids discovered a series of pools feeding into each other, the classic sign of river trout breeding.

I sat in the kitchen with the woman working the comal. She told me she and her daughter walk an hour with all their supplies to reach the forest and cook at Comedor B-- (Bocadillo? Boquita?). And then she told me something brilliant. She said, "In two weeks, the first wild mushrooms will be ready to pick in the forest. Come back and I will make you trout stuffed with them." Indeed, Cuajimaloyas is the site of the annual Feria de Hongos Silvestres. People pour into the forest to spend the weekend, which is usually in July or August (during rainy season), to go on guided walks with experts that identify the different types of mushrooms and which ones are safe to consume.

Then her 10-year-old son ran up. He had been playing with my children and now wanted to show all of us the waterfall. We now had a guide, whether we had wanted one or not, but it felt lucky to have a local boy the same age as our children, taking us, stopping to play, call to animals, catch bugs, and point out sources of pure drinking water along the way. And I spied the beginnings of some near-fluorescent orange mushrooms, like something out of Alice in Wonderland.

We cut across pastures and saw bulls charging around playfully. Bright green frogs and tiny brown spiders hopped between tall grass and rocks. The kids played catch and release with grasshoppers. The walk ended with us sliding down a muddy mountainside to a modest waterfall, with just enough mossy boulders to bring out your inner mountain goat. The children insisted on getting as muddy as possible, and all pompis were good and wet upon our exit up the slope.

Sure it's beautiful and a grand departure from the more established ecotourism sites with their conference rooms and their adventure playgrounds, but what also make Cuajimaloyas special is also its incredible accessibility. We reached the site in barely over an hour's drive and were in the midst of the forest almost immediately. Our adventure was an incredible break from the urban life of downtown Oaxaca and a chance to see the impact of the early rainy season in all its brilliant green, flashy orange, and mushy brown.

Triangle drive

I'm staring down the face of a too busy summer, wondering how I got here again. Every time I catch my breath I tell myself "stay here, don't start adding," but there's always something, something. On Thursday, we depart for al norte, the 7-day drive to California. In Cali, it's Max's birthday at Santa Cruz boardwalk, a trip to Fairyland (and meet up with friends and family there, hopefully), tennis camp for the kids, pool parties at a couple friends' houses, Steve's book signing and concert, visit with my Mom, meet my Dad for Chinese food, and maybe do some work?

Then we drive across country, eventually ending up in Boulder to visit more family and friends. From there, Steve flies with the kids to Boston while I continue driving until I see them there! I've never driven across country alone and, while I love being alone and love going long distances, I feel nervous. I hardly drive in Oaxaca, due to completely not being able to figure it out and fear, so maybe I feel out of practice.

On the east coast side, we will hang with Steve's family before heading south toward Mexico, stopping in Philly to stay at my aunt's apartment and maybe stopping at various Native American sites on the way down so Max gets his fourth grade social studies curriculum in one trip.

I was busy at work on an article about summer activities for children when I remembered the golden activity, the thing that erases all fighting and woe. Water. A sprinkler, a bucket, a baby pool, a beach visit--water in all its forms blisses out our whole family, especially if cloud cover or shade is in the equation.

Somewhere in there, I also want to find time to dance barefoot, read a New Yorker, watch a movie, see a play, hike Point Reyes, scour a used bookstore, score cheap art supplies for our new school, and have dim sum and Indian food. It's starting to feel like New Year's resolutions all over again.

Beach Party

We're back from five days at the beach. This time around, we hit the less-visited areas, beginning with Puerto Angel. Much is made of the nudie hippie druggy yoga scene around Zipolite, but all we saw ere tall waves crashing on an open stretch of beach. We dined on on fresh grilled fish at a Frenchman's restaurant, swinging in hammocks under the stars while sipping margaritas. Nutella crepes for dessert.

The first couple days we hung in Puerto Angel, at a small beach called Playa Panteon (cemetery beach). This spot was pure old Mexico, with Cordelia's small hotel spilling onto the sand. The waves were gentle enough for Max to swim there for hours. We skirted the rocks and managed a swim to a sand bar and cave hidden in the boulders a little way out from the shore. Max shined with the accomplishment.

A tour of nearby beaches allowed us to snorkel at Playa Estacuhite, where I spotted the same blue glittery fishes Jenny, Steve and I found in Zihuatanejo 13 years ago. It felt like Jenny visited me, or at least sent a sign. We went to the more remote Playa Boquila, rough, cool and just swimmable enough on a turbulent day to feel challenging but not overpowering.

Onto a new beach town, San Agustinillo, the favorite of many. It was gorgeous, of course, a stretch of sand with boulders, tide pools, crashing surf, and the requisite line of palapas, hammocks and surfboard rental spots to provide entertainment, food, cocktails and shade. The drawback was it no longer felt like Mexico. Lots of European tourists and businesses owned by non-Mexicans, the latter which is my least favorite aspect of traveling in supposedly hip places. It's lovely to get the veggie food, yoga options, alterna culture, but the locals do not get as much of the tourists' money in this model.

Mazunte on the beach felt the same way. Luckily, locals use the beach, surfing it, swimming it, playing soccer on it, jamming on bongos by it, so it doesn't feel devoid of Mexican people and culture. Mazunte in town felt more Mexican, with the women running the natural cosmetics shop (partially started with a grant from The Body Shop to discontinue the killing of sea turtles and consumption of their eggs and move the economy toward a conservation model) and a beautiful ecological reserve devoted to the life of sea turtles. Onto La Ventanilla Beach, wild and hot, and lined with lagoons you can tour by non-motorized boat. We stopped at an island and drank from coconuts chopped open by machetes.

I could go on, but I think I'll conclude with Geni's poem she dictated to me about the beach:
Green water.
Blue water.
Green, green water.
It's a turtle.

So you think you can dance?

I cannot pay adequate tribute to our 8-day journey from California to Oaxaca, especially since, after we returned home, we all came down with the stomach flu. I blame the bootleg Chuck E. Cheese pizza parlor and arcade off the highway in Puebla.

Puebla, in general, was not good to us. We found ourselves in Friday's late rush hour, stuck at an OXXO (sorta Circle K) essentially giving up. We could not wrangle our way through the mess and the gnarl, so we decided to make the 4-hour drive to Oaxaca on the almost-done tire over the rocky road. And then, like a beacon, the City Xpress hotel popped in front of us. A strip mall. A generic trying-to-be boutique hotel, flanked by a bowling alley and a aforementioned Chuck E. Cheese. Max said, "This is the nicest place we've stayed the whole time." You can take the boy out of the suburbs, but...

Why lead with the low points, though? I could mention the Mazatlan mini-vacay, with a 10pm visit to a quickly disappearing Olas Altas beach as the tide came in. I kept yelling to Max, "Only five more minutes!" but it was truly beautiful. On the way out of Mazatlan, I leaned out the car window and asked a roadside vendor for a bottle of fresh, cold coconut water, which is sold at many busy intersections. Mexican road trip food has it all over U.S. road trip food (except for Poblano pizza).

The definite high point caught me by surprise. We were all cranky over the recent loss of Snuggles, Max's favorite stuffed gorilla that he left in the hotel room in Los Mochis. I suggested we take a half-day vacation from our road trip, and veer off to Guanajuato, a place Steve, Jenny and I used to hang.

It worked. GTO is a city of subterranean streets, tunnels, bridges and cobblestone alleyways, all of which appealed to Max's "I'm lost in a labyrinth" and Geni's "I'm Velma from Scooby Doo" fantasy mentalities. I dragged my kids along to see all the old favorite haunts, and they did not complain. They loved the gardens and crumbling remains of the ex-Hacienda de San Gabriel de Barerra. Max willingly discussed the artwork and its symbolism at the all-Don Quixote museum, one of my little strange treasured places. And they even hung for a 9pm visit to Truco 7, the funky kinda bohemian cafe where we scored blacky purply mole enchiladas. It reminded me why Guanajuato was always our second choice, after Oaxaca.

Coming home to Oaxaca, we're caught in this strange time warp of waiting for school to start but also trying to get better from the stomach bug. I can tell I'm starting to improve, though, because I was researching an article and came across a mention of Bollywood Booty dance fitness, and I got excited, thinking, "I will have a Bollywood Booty." Now that I'm two years into this Oaxaca lifestyle, and perhaps have this freelance for a living thing figured out (knock wood), it's time to focus the year on dancing, I think.

Pacific Northwest Heyday

Welcome to my first blog post as a 42-year-old. It is not the highpoint of my trip al norte, what with it being 3am and my balancing my laptop on my knees as I type in the bathroom of the Medford Motel 6. But the past week in the Pacific Northwest has held many highlights:

*Stopping at Granzella's free olive bar on the way up
*Eggplant burger at Gepetto's in Ashland
*Berry-picking at Sauvie Island
*Walking Alberta Street
*Hanging with Jen and meeting baby Marley at Wilshire Park
*Dancing at the NIA studio with Megs
*Playing in the water area at the Children's Museum with Max and Geni
*Aladdin's twice for veggie Mediterranean
*The all green paintings show at the vegan shoe store
*Singing "The Night Chicago Died" in honor of Jenny at The Alibi Tiki Lounge with Mary Lou and Meg
*The Stella meet and greet for Max
*Playing Frogger at Ground Kontrol with Steve, Max, Geni and Meg
*Powell's with my mom, Steve and the kids
*Seeing J.R.'s new paintings
*Hiking to the top of Multnomah Falls with Max
*Chilling for four hours in Alberta Park, watching Max and Geni swim and make friends
*Indian sides and talking love, sex, marriage and babies with the Stephanies
*Explaining to my friend why she might want to have sex with her boyfriend before breaking up with him
*The water and light show at the Enchanted Forest
*To come: a morning playing in Lithia Park along the creek

Vacay!

We just returned from a whirlwind East Coast vacay. It began with Cape Cod, to see the in-laws. I've never been much of a Cape Cod kind of person, even though I desperately love beaches. I've gotten spoiled, I think, by the Mexican beach model of palapas for shade and grilled mariscos lunches while watching the kids play in the sand. But we hit Sandy Neck and Peter's Pond and managed to find our groove with the Atlantic side of the world.

Then we popped up to Maine to a place called Squirrel Island which was a very different experience. It's a summer colony, meaning, I guess, that the weather is a little too desperately cold for unheated beach cottages once October hits. Steve's sister Mary invited us to stay in their 5-bedroom cottage rental. I'd never been to a place like this. No cars or bicycles are allowed and there are no restaurants or shops. You bring everything over by ferry and, basically, only the residents (or renters) are there. This is a pretty cool setup when traveling with two young children. They loved running all over the grassy fields and through the forest of fairy houses (built from shells, sea glass, rocks, and strange little objects). The sea glass beach brought out the obsessive collector in me. Maxito and I spent a couple hours poring over the glittering jewels, which are also known as Mermaids' Tears. Other beaches have rocks for climbing, tide pools, or some decent wading. The library is in a gorgeous building with window seats. There are strange little art books and even some multicultural children's books. The house where we stayed had a wrap-around porch and a big hammock and I noticed (as did Mary) that, as time went on, outdoor life became the default and indoors was where you went to fetch something before returning outside. This was a great experience.

We managed to sneak into Boston to the Fogg Art Museum and Indian food (hooray!). We also hit New Hampshire (new territory for me) and then, my favorite, Chicago! What a blast buzzing around the inner city after all the languid beach days. The Art Institute is incredible, and borders Millenium Park, home to a sprayground that is now Yeni and Max's fave spot in the city.

Now I'm back in Oaxaca which, after all these far-flung places, is home, more than ever. But I'm also left with a longing, I must admit, to still be looking at the sea glass in the sun, with nothing more pressing than a date to make s'mores at the fireplace that evening.