Lymphatic Surfing.

It claims in the written word that Escondido means hidden and is both the surf nirvana and spiritual Mecca, where people rarely leave….let see…



Olga is the fist person most travellers see at the bus station. She was trying to sell us 'Casa Olga' her hidden GUEST HOUSE, using a flip up photo album where the pictures had faded with too much exposure, making the images look more like old family snaps from 1977. She felt like a very positive force. In the taxi to her place, which was by divine intervention the famous ZICATELA BEACH, 1.5 miles south east of the main town, a golden beach that stretches one mile in breath taking length, meaning that in this heat it gives you upper respiratory failure walking it in one go after 8am. Olga’s place has a big cool pool…vital.



Olga said ‘It’s low season, not many people, today I ask my angels to find me some good people to stay this week.' So her A-team got in touch with our A-team and we stayed for 3 weeks, this angel thing is proving universal. Not only that my previous request was also answered, we had a massive room, one whole wall of windows that over looked the lapping mesmerising ocean and it was truly peaceful and quiet…..see, don’t ask don’t get. Bless my porter Angels.



Part one; PUERTO ESCON-DUDO!! SURF NIRVANA



‘Hey Flea, heard you scored a rad wave dude!’
‘Mouse, hey man, not just rad dude! It totally toiled me out, couldn’t think past its awesomeness’
‘Nice one bro.’
‘Yer, cool amigo’.
This is primal surf jargon, spoken in fluent tongue here, along with Spanglish, and most other languages, all are heavily buttered with an American twang. This is Surftopia, a suitable holiday destination for all the worlds salt water blooded tall, fit and lean tribes of the extreme sports generation, this certainly does not exclude any height challenged, unfit, weight baring folk who are equally very welcome too. But a word of warning, the waves around here are not for the faint hearted. Apparently, some old dude …(Approx age of 31) jumped a blinding wave, he smashed into the path of this young dude (Approx age of 18) who had already taken it, a collision occurred this split his board in two, this happens all the time. It was clearly the old dudes fault, as he didn’t have right of way over the wave! Bit like if you are on a roundabout and there is a car coming from your right, pull out too soon bang goes your car and no claims. I also saw dudes surf within the waves tube, and one dude surfed ontop of the same wave, which really defies all gravity.



Tide predictions are given out like shipping forecasts in the local press. Today’s surfing forecast for Friday 11th May is as follows; Hora 4.43, Altura 0.74, south easterly, Zicatela winds, treacherous swill, wobble wax under balance, billabong, tide out, grand wave, dread don’t, duck south, bong, northern pop-up rapid, gulp, current fight, shore parallel, Yicks, sting ray, vibes bad, trudge feet, taint sting, go, playa Marineros, beginners, paddle much. Here ends the surfing forecast for Friday 11th May 2007, and now the news.



The female surfers are equally respected and proudly stretch themselves into nothing more than a tight fitting birthday suit, with both their mosquito bites respectably covered by millimetres of colourful fabric. The bikini outlets are two to a penny around here, one look at a proper bosomed dudess (aka…moi) you get eye roll/sympathetic gaze from the shop assistant as you pick up many hangers with barely a cotton thread dangling from them. For the boys, long surf shorts and long sleeved lycra t-shirts are worn for the paler skin types, so they avoid getting ‘hot tops’, (burnt shoulders) because these tsunami tides usually appear in hotter climates, where storms and hurricanes (& chasers) occur out to sea which creates the much sort after swill, the full moon also has a lot to do with the tides velocity. Surfers can’t wear sun block as gripping the board could at worst become fatal, but the board can be waxed, so if mortal waves don’t get them, skin cancer might.



As I’m a touch bigger than size zero and don’t fancy sunning myself in public wearing nothing more than a hem, I visited ‘Central Surf’ and asked Angel…(a real man, no hoodoo hipster stuff on my part) if I could combine the normal size men’s shorts, with the fabric and floral print of an un-normal Barbie-doll sized girls shorts. ‘No problem’ said Angel who has run this surf emporium for 20 years here In Escondido. In the work shop we couldn’t find the same screen for the design I saw in the shop, and it was great being back in a print shop environment, (Grade 1 CSE, grade A O’level print, art & design, which is all I got in the end….) so I hooked up with Marco the graphics man and we came up with a simple floral design, colours ect, which Maria skilfully made up, they also built me a black surf skirt (mans size ) which was also beautifully crafted.



I noticed soon on, that you’re not really cresting any wave round here unless you or your partner have previous experience walking barefoot on hot coals, as the sand and streets are too scorchio…no one really wears shoes which is seen as cool!! I miss this point. It also seems compulsory to be strapped by hand/ankle cuffs to a boogie/surf board. So during the first week I subtly dropped many hints that it would be cool if Stu should maybe think about taking surf lessons, as he loves the water and I have a pathological fear of the sea, (Evidence I drowned in my previous life to this one)…. The only surfing ill be safely doing round here is on the Internet. This is alleged to be the second best destination next to Wikkie Hawaii somewhere in America! but they say Escondido has the better waves, which I really don’t understand that statement. During our second week Stu came up with a fantastic great idea all by himself, that maybe he should try to learn to surf…Bingo! Which he does, his teacher Rene who is Angels brother said he was gifted as he not only got ontop of the board first time but rode a wave, (which means the teacher gets paid) not quite bank vaulting upon a 6 footer, or fining out turns while feathering the lip, like they do here and on extreme sports programmes shown on British TV at 3am on bleary eyed Sunday mornings, with that small lady in the corner of the screen who signs for the deaf. (Shift work experience, I swear! )


Anyhow Stu loved it, his chest was all cut and bruised what a fine man… all due to fearless attempts to get on the thing, yet his chest was also puffing outwards like a proud chimp after his first day at t-bag school..... I personally would need Paul McKenna to maybe give me a couple of slaps then look into my eyes hypnotically giving me the fearless drive of a four-year-old boy to get me out there. The waves are ‘Rad’, alright, positively monstrous on some days, just like that commercial with the Guinness horses, tick follows tock, follows tick….



I must say that after 3 weeks of being here I have learnt a great deal about the sea, tides lines and watching the tides horizontally snap along the shore, like the ping of a very long elastic band. I now know how to confirm a puffer fish is actually dead which isn't easy as all fish puff out when their dead and knowing where all the dogs take dumps which is just on the edge of the tide, this naturally takes their waste out to sea, how eco clever of them…another reason why im not going swimming in there… It’s a whole new education that will never be of any use to me in London.



Now Easter has finally finished (this country would celebrate the opening of a can of coke if they could) and so now no one is around past 22pm, the streets are barren with virtual tumbleweed rolling down the one main dirt road by the ZICATELA seafront. This also means its quiet, keeping the now MUCH older higher self-part of me very happy. Despite a great number of young surfers dudes/esses left, iv not personally tripped over any bar brawls or beach parties apart from one, on Monday nights at Cabo Blanco there is fiesta until 2am, with Dudes, phood ‘n’ booze. Then next to Casa Olgas (our place) there is another party, which carries on until sunrise. The rest of the time I don’t know what people here do after 22pm they must all be in their hostels waxing boards, shooting shit, talking rad swills and close encounters of the water kind…



Part two; The Spiritual Mecca.

Full moon…



Espacio Meditativo Temazcalli; This sanctuary is amazing; Patricia and Alexander have kept this place alive for 15 years, and possibly all their clients, its $20ps in a cab from Zicatela beach. I started easy with a clay and salt body scrub, where Poko who stars throughout these sessions, rendered me from head to foot in thick nourishing clay and salts, this drew out all the evil toxins from my already dried up charred skin, after one hour and now arid like cement he skimmed off the first 3 layers of my much sort after Dale Winton look.



We then started a treatment called Lymphatic drainage massage; this originated in Austria, which is where half of me came originated from too, originally called Vodder. In brief the lymphatic system is just more inner tubing, which carries off all the undigested food, infectious bacterial material, dead cells and other internal debris. The individual lymph nodes work as tiny filters along the route, they filter all the trapped bacteria, viruses, even potential cancer cells and all other unwanted substances, making sure they are safely eliminated from the body. The liver carries out the same work, so the lymph is very dependant on the livers immune cells. They need each like a hand needs a glove to work in harmony keep us from getting colds and flu or at very worse cancer, which the cancer issue (especially breast)/deterrent/cure part is an on going debate right now, does this treatment cure it or does it not? As I had a massive breast cancer scare last year. ill try anything to deter, and donate to the cause. The thing about the lymphatic system is there is no pump to move all this body clutter out on its own, unlike the heart that has enough to deal with pumping all our blood that carries all our oxygen that feeds our entire bodies. So this is why deep diaphragmic breathing and exercise is so important to us, as it helps pump and move the lymph’s, clearing it all out.



This is a great treatment if you have experienced the following; Extreme stress….tick, constantly tired…tick, memory failing….I think so! Frequent colds/low immune…tick. Tonsil problems…big tick, (years of it.) If your body looks uncharacteristically ‘soft and podgy’! …urmmm I suppose….tick. Noticeable cellulite….not really and finally if your skin is very pale…I m looking like a piece of beef jerky im UV’d too death. now, so cant tell anymore! Unfortunately all the above is hard to avoid living in any city during this time of universal change and development. .



London life left me feeling all of the above, sad isn’t it! I experiencing ‘post traumatic stress’ diagnosed for the first time in my life.... after a mixed bag of trauma, deaths, aggressive others, debts, telesales and estate agents… during the year, I od’d on Indian take-outs, washed down with litres of white wine, the staple English diet these days. I could only sit and wallow watching all the soaps followed by their omnibuses (I cried when Pauline Fowler dropped dead, (which looking back is tragic, me crying at soaps not Pauline Fowler dying!!) I was free falling within a big black hole of self-making.



This week Poko has been one of my guiding lights; he had the hottest healing hands, a truly gifted body worker. This treatment is painful, sort of like nine and a bit rounds with Prince Naseem, but most of my 5 sessions I spent crawling the raffian walls, focusing on a single brown dream catcher feather they had dangling from the pyramid ceiling carefully placed above my 4th heart chakra. I was trying my best too be Zen and breathe into the pain, thinking of ice cool pina coladas...which im now not allowed to have. Poko pummelled where all my lymph nodes were refusing to dance, around my ears, neck, downwards to my collar bone, around the breasts, (this was so painful, as most of these lymph’s live around the breast, the potential congestion therefore adding to the breast cancer debate) moving down into the underarms, inner thighs (big ouch), stomach and lower legs.



Each day I felt weaker as I was also sticking to a strict diet, NO ALCOHOL, no dairy foods, no red meat, no caffeine, and no sugar, god what’s left? Luckily In Escondido there is no dilemma as everywhere is organic and fresh. I had fresh juices, Spiralina smoothies which is orange based moss green algae bacterial stuff infused with mango I had one each morning, and like tick follow tock shitting firm solid moss green algae stuff out each night! Was perfect, I ate green vegetables, many bananas and fresh seafood, which is all potassium rich and important ingredients to this detox, washed down through out the day with litres of water. Its thought that spicy foods such as salsa, ginger and cayenne pepper boosts sluggish lymph systems and cuts mucous congestion, which was even more perfect as they are all part of Mexico’s staple diet all dolloped on a single crunchy nacho. Soon enough as promised my phlegm was being recycled and disposed of hourly via a throaty ‘thwoooowh’ in to any hidden space. 5 days of this I could only imagine that I was feeling more like I would mid dialysis, lethargic, out of balance, old stuff out new stuff in, then on the 5th final session, there was no pain at all, it felt like a regular massage, which meant my lymph’s were now dancing. I felt energetic, lighter and more alive than I have in a long while. And others did notice a marked difference, which is always the proof of the pudding blah, blah. (not that i was allowed any pudding to eat…booooo)




I finished off my week of treatments with my second Temazcalli, it was full moon, an appropriate time to call in on the great spirits, Mexican ancestors and my two very amused spirit nanna’s to help us all through this new lunar transition. I wont bore you with the details in full, (read previous Temazcalli blog) only this time it was cosy as there were 5 locals, me and maybe 198 spirit guides, helpers, healers, porters, runners, but you cant physically feel any of them, but you can sense them everywhere. Alexander knew my issues so he spoke to me in English and the support I felt was incredible, sat in pitch darkness with the ‘cold’ wall behind me. Yes, I brought a flannel and I was hotter than a freshly f****d fox in a forest fire, combusting internally, again! I nearly made it right too the last furlong, but after the voice vibrations projection then the rattle & drum chant and herb tea, that was not thrown on the hot stones but mercifully given to us inside to sip slowly this time, I felt the hounds of hell surface. I was hyper ventilating at 40 breaths a minute, hypotensive, lub dub lub dub….seeing stars and about to pass out.


Alex nodded to a kind man by my left side who placed his hand on my forehead and another by my base of neck sacral cranial, trying to heal/stabilise/exorcise any evil that may have been trapped within all these years (I was forced to do the Ojai board aged 9) ….finally what came up were tears, deep from within my big old belly, cumbersome tears. Alex made way as I was given permission to crawl out and escape. I sat in the quiet bamboo seating area submerged under my Acapulco cockatoo beach towel and made wailing noises to myself…that confused Tommy the dog that started quietly wailing with me. I felt completely good about this, no Ego-English reserve halted this fun, tears and sweat continued to pour out of every pore, then it stopped and it felt great, like after a heavy rainstorm clearing the air. That evening watching the sunset from Los Tios the waves were oddly calm.



We have eaten Nopales cactus (spicy); drank avocado milkshakes (a beyond yummy must try, at 'los tios' but not when detoxing) and Spiralina (a must do when detoxing) I adopted a dog that sits with us every day I named him Mango. He had his nose broken, his face is lopsided, his lower teeth protrude making him drool a lot, if you feed him fish of any kind he has allergies and sneezes like a dog possessed, which is funny, but not…so we give him everything but fish now…fed like a king he is, he grabs every ones attention whom passes him by. But what is interesting is how people really see him, either as cute or adorable or an ugly pesky mutt they shoo away, then I him beckon back with pedigree premios biscuits I keep in my bag for just these kind of occasions.



We did a day trip, and as we sat waiting for two sisters to saddle up so we could do a 3-hour ge-ge ride in a Manialtepec village called San Jose. We watched a cow being freshly slaughtered, divvied up in to prime steaks…opposite was a huddle of elderly toothless men who had been up all night wankered on beer, they played a single guitar string using the same fret/song over and over…all this took place at 10am on a beautiful (its always sunny) Sunday morning just before church…the youngest of the sisters shouted ‘horse go’ just as the machete sliced the cow clean in half along his spinal cord, one half hitting the ground with a thud. The elder sister was bored ridged on the ride as none of the horses would go beyond a mild canter with us on them, especially me, so we clip clopped through lakes and barren wilderness, the youngest sister gave me nature lessons in Spanish as she rode my horse with me, I acknowledged her expertises with a 'ohhhwa' and 'wow' which is universal amazement and praise....a twig snapping would send my horse buck-a-rooing then some clever arse let off fire crackers in broad day light for a laugh as the horse went ballistic …..oh how I laughed out loud! We rode up to Atotonilco hot springs, too hot to actually get into, leaving scarlet scold marks where our legs attempted to submerge. Riding horses makes me very happy, but the two massive hard lumps the size of medium mango stones that appeared in my inner thighs the next day didn’t make me happy.



One day Stu noticed from our veranda two hump back whales flipping about in the waves of the ocean ahead, beautifully choreographed and mesmerising. I dropped my book and even the cleaner downed her mops (in order to have a crafty fag break) and ran out side for a look. Except a boat stuffed full of humans soon spotted the whales too, they B-lined and circled them, and then the whales were seen no more. Before we left Escondido, I took 100 photos of Casa Olga guesthouse, for her new photo album in hope for her to sell to other bewildered tourists at the bus station, but with a 2007 feel to them. So there is no confusion that her place is an amazing hide away. Puerto Escondido certainly has hidden secrets that everyone is privy too, if you can allow it too help you let go of all the unimportant rubbish we desperately cling too, this place lets you chill right down to the marrow, eliminating the rough surface stuff, allowing you to search deeper for the finer stuff. While travelling for a long time, its ok in having a bit of routine, same, sameness in a nothingness kind of way is good and grounding for the spirit. … J.H Prynne once said ‘Music, travel, habit and silence are all money’ Im banking some good soul credit right now…




Casa Olga Guest house (find her at the bus station 7-9pm) Calle del Morro, Cerca Bajada de Las Brisas, Zicatela Pto. Escondido, Oaxaca Mexico. Olga_hmex@yahoo.com.mx

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