Michener: Despite the possible financial ruin that was
Thursday, it’s increasingly difficult to complain about anything that happens
here. It is this kind of place: yesterday when we were looking for wireless, we
stopped in a beach-side bar for happy hour—where there was wireless, mind you; that’s
why we stopped in, and we returned to the same place for dinner this evening.
When we arrived, the same waiter hurried up to our table and presented Chris
with a crumpled, tattered piece of paper. Somewhere in getting out or putting
away the laptop and drinking margaritas yesterday, Chris dropped said paper on
which I had written directions to our place both in Spanish and English, along
with the Mexican cell phone number of our host. It was a piece of paper that
was extremely important when we first arrived because we didn’t know where we
were going, but it no longer holds value: we know our intersection and how to
get there. No matter it’s relative worth, this is the kind of place where a
waiter picks up a piece of paper you have dropped and looks out for you—over the
course of days—to return it, and that has great value.
Our drive turns out onto a road that runs straight into the
ocean in a matter of blocks and each time we walk down it, I’m struck by its
beauty and how unbelievably lucky we are to be here and to have found a
reasonable place so close to the ocean. Today, as we walked, Chris mentioned
how different it is here, where people of wealth live in two and three story
homes, on large lots with in-ground pools and ocean views but have next door
neighbors who live in one-story shacks with corrugated tin roofs and mud lawns.
I’ve described where we’re staying. Outside the iron gates and across the road
is a dilapidated trailer where a woman lives and grows flowers to sell from a
basket she carries into town. It’s possible this road is the Austin Boulevard
of Puerto Escondido but it’s more likely that there is actual economic
integration here. There’s so much I would like to know more about.
One weird thing that I hope is coincidence: Last night, we made dinner. We’ve had our
breakfast and lunches at the table on the lanai, but at dinner time it’s dark
out there. The kitchen has a huge curved island but no table and chairs, and, after
food prep but before eating, I said to Chris, “it would be great if there were
stools here because then you could serve from and eat at the island instead of sitting
on the couches and eating at the coffee table.” Today, four hand-made wooden
stools were delivered along with a dining table and four chairs. So, now I’m feeling like I’m part of some sort
of creepy Mexican focus group, and I’m looking for the tiny cameras that cop
shows lead me to believe are basically everywhere…
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