Not your typical backpackers

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We arrived bleary eyed in Puerto Escondido after completing our thirteen hour overnight bus journey from San Cristobal. Having had a decent amount of kip between us on Mexico’s comfy, albeit a little pricey, first class bus service followed by a quick stop for breakfast and we felt ready to commence the accommodation search. Not wooed at our first stop with its brash American owner trying to pressure us with promises of ‘nice sheets’ and ‘a great time’ instead we plumped for our second stop which looked to fit the bill. Hostel Puerto Escondido was a pretty barebones but with all the backpacker essentials and an enticing price tag (a third of the first hostel we looked at) we checked in.

Puerto Escondido is another one of those tourist invaded fishing villages. The good thing was most of the invading tourists were Mexican and the fishing activities were still in full swing. So much so on one evening we were collared by a couple of the local fishermen for some extra brawn to help get their boat off the beach and into the sea. Omar (the owner of the hostel where we were staying) was not totally convinced about the desirability of his towns increasingly rapid transition into tourist-ville and upon discovering all the shops on the main strip were chocked to the gunnels with nothing but cheap tat we found it difficult to disagree with him. That said, ignoring some of these particularly naff outcomes of Puerto Escondidos tourist influx, it was a great place to soak up our last rays of hot beachside sunshine on this continent.

Our main hangout was Carazalillo Beach. A brief wander down the coast this little beach at the foot of a pretty monumental set of steps offered up good sun baking, great swimming and very refreshing fresh lemon drinks in the shade when the heat got a little too much. We had a brief shock early one afternoon during our six night stay when a cloud momentarily blocked the suns rays. However, besides such moments there was little to worry us beneath Puerto Escondido’s perfect blue skies beyond which bar was serving up the best 2-for-1 mojitos.

Four nights in Omar unexpectedly revealed his confusion with our daily habits. He told us that he had become slightly perplexed because we had not acquainted ourselves with the local drugs scene nor ever rolled back in the wee hours totally wasted on the local hooch. It was an observation that indeed revealed his rather unimaginative and one dimensional approach to existence but also that as had been increasingly evident in Mexico we have a rather different set of travel priorities to the majority of our fellow backpackers. Anyhow the next stop for our evidently humdrum travelling will be over the hills to Oaxaca.

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