I came across this ad one day while wandering around Condesa. I’ve no idea what any of it means, however I derived enormous pleasure from the LEER/studious Jake Gyllenhaal circa Brokeback lookalike/’SUPERARSE’ combo.
Arriba!
xx
Claireabelle
remedios varo
Before heading home I spent a few more days in Mexico City, where I discovered an artist whom I’d now consider one of my favourites. It all started with a small hand mirror I found in a shop - I saw this picture on the front and was instantly captivated.
The artist’s name is Remedios Varo. She was born in Spain in 1908, but spent most of her life in Mexico. She was friends with Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, and like the best of them had a swathe of exotic lovers. Remedios was also pretty foxy herself.
Having found out where I could see some more of her work, I trekked to the Museo de Arte Moderno - no easy feat when you combine a poor sense of direction with an even poorer grasp of Spanish. Turns out they only had a small painting and an even smaller sketch, and that most of her work is privately owned. Very frustrating! Still, the painting I saw (Roulette) was lovely, and reminded me a little of Tim Burton’s style.
I saw a lot of fantastic art in Mexico, but Remedios was a definite highlight. She died October 8 (my birthday!) in 1963.
xx
chacahua
My last day in Puerto Escondido was spent cruising around the lagoons of Chacahua on a little boat with a bunch of crazy Canadians and their chihuahua Jorge. There were a buttload of mangroves and birds, and the sense of remoteness was very soothing.
Before I could get too relaxed, the matriarch of the Canadian family began recounting some bone-chilling tales about “the real Puerto”. Covered in tattoos and proudly sporting a healthy appetite for weed, she lived in Puerto for many years, next to a police station. She told tale after tale of police corruption, drug cartels, buffets of cocaine, child abduction, beheadings and organ harvesting.
As Jorge shivered away next to me I began to feel glad I wasn’t scratching too far below the surface in Puerto. We tucked into a feast on the big, empty beach and I watched perfect waves roll in, wishing I had my board.
As we zipped back home, the moon appeared in front, dusky pink, while behind us the sun set and large black birds wheeled and screeched. It was a weird, magic day.
xx
playa carrizalillo
My favourite beach in Puerto was the sheltered little cove of Carrizalillo. When the surf was up, the waves were long and gentle. When it wasn’t, there were snacks to be eaten on the beach, and snorkeling to be done.
Ice cream man.
Heading home on a little boat one day, I noticed this decaying house. There was something romantic about it, even in it’s state of ruin.
xx
¡hola puerto!
After a 16 hour bus trip in which I didn’t spew once (thanks Kwells! Where were you my entire childhood?), I landed in Puerto Escondido and immediately began traipsing about looking for a place to stay. I spent my first night in the Hotel Virginia in a room that smelled strongly of poo (and not in a good way), listening to the children screaming next door. The next morning, frazzled to say the least, I went on a mission to find somewhere less harrowing to sleep. Down a cobbled alley on Zicatela, I stumbled upon the Tabachin del Puerto, a decadent establishment run by a Willy Wonka-esque man named Paul Cleaver. His toy poodle (sporting a pearl necklace) yapped at my ankles as he informed me he too was was booked out. Nonetheless, he sat me down, offered me a cup of tea and sent a waiter off to make some calls on my behalf. I soon realised his kindness had made me his captive as he began regaling me with ye olde stories while his poodle humped a stray kitten under the table. I was most grateful when the waiter returned to say he’d found me somewhere quiet and lovely to stay around the corner. As I walked away from Mr. Cleaver, I wondered whether the whole episode had been a dream. When at last I arrived at my new hotel I almost cried with relief - it was beautiful.
The Flor de Maria was bliss. The couple who run it are divine, my room was enormous, and there was a library, restaurant, and my favourite spot - the rooftop. I spent delicious stretches of time up there - swimming, hammocking, downing cocktails and watching the sun set.
The Flor also has a secret ‘no children under 12’ rule. Ha!
The beach out front is Bahía Principal, and these are my 2 favourite pics of said beach:
What respectable truck or semi-trailer would be seen without an elaborate strap-on shrine?
This sunburned old lizard reminded me of Donatella Versace. I stalked him and his leathery little ass crack until he became suspicious.
xx
cochineal bugs
Before leaving Oaxaca, I cruised over to Teotitlan del Valle, where they make colourful traditional rugs using dyes made from all-natural ingredients. Most of the colours come from various plants, but my favourite colour was red, because I got to meet cochineal bugs for the first time! I feel pretty bad for these bugs, they get a pretty rough deal as far as being a bug is concerned. Watching the dye-making process from start to finish was pretty fascinating though.
here they are growing on a big cactus leaf
and here’s a squished one
for the dye, they dry the bugs out
then grind them up into a fine powder
when you mix the powder with different amounts of water and lime, you can get any shade from orange through to marone.
magic!
R.I.P. bugs.
xx
Mitla
I’ve got a break this week, so will be doing my best to get this blog up to speed with where I’m at right now. But first I want to share the rest of my Mexico adventure.
Mitla is an archeological site set against the moody mountains of the Tlacolula Valley. Beginning around the year 850, it was the main religious centre for the Zapotecs.
The detailed geometric fretwork was amazing (it brought back memories of my favourite hoodie in the 90’s - a marone Kuta Lines number).
Check the height of that entrance! It never ceases to surprise me how short people used to be. Although even when I was there I felt like a towering pasty monster at times.
The tomb. BYO corpse.
Thinking about how structures like this endure so far beyond the lives that created them got me tripping balls about all the billions of people who have come and gone long before me. But I think it’s good to shift perspective and feel insignificant every now and then.
xx
