After a good, solid night’s sleep, we wake up in paradise.

Inn/Home on the Corner of Benito Juarez Boulevard and
Calle Tiburones, About a Half a Block from Villa Johanna.
I Stood in the Middle of the Empty Boulevard to Take This Picture.

 

We walk to the boulevard and to the Cafecita Bakery. Excellent coffee and I have jambon y queso rollos (ham and melted cheese in pastry.) Delicious.

After breakfast, we find the pathway down to the Playa Carrizalillo and we walk down just far enough to check it out. Truly spectacular. The steps are very daunting to me, but the view is so inviting, I know I will manage to get down, eventually, to see it up close.

First View of our Private Beach

Second View of Carrizalillo Beach


Mitch's First View

LRH & Sara
admire the Playa

Mitch's View from
the Beach Palapa

Sara and I walk down to the Avenue Perez Gasga (aka the Adoquin) while Mitch investigates the north part of town. It’s a fair walk down to the Playa Principal (main beach), but nice to check out the local color on foot.
Did the Cactus Grow Up
Through the Sidewalk or
Did They Build Around It?

After a refreshing naranja de jugo (orange juice) at one of the beach cafes, we walk along the strip and check out the shops. At midday there are very few people out on the street. It is extremely warm in the sun. I am in shock--culturally and thermally.

Shopping on the Adoquin

We pick up some more suntan lotion and stop at the travel agent to firm up our flight plans from Puerto to Oaxaca City, and to exchange some money.

We take a cab home and since I don’t feel energetic enough to go down to the beach, I decide to stay around the pool instead of going down with Sara. Besides, that pool and collection of chaise longues is just too inviting.

I meet our neighbors from the big house and hear their stories: A young couple from California and his brother from Philadelphia. She’s been coming down for years with her parents and has now converted her husband and his brother to Puerto pleasures for the holidays.

Eventually, Mitch and then Sara return. We perform our afternoon ablutions and take a cab to the Adoquin where we have dinner at Perla Flameante. Seafood rules the day in Puerto. We sit on the second floor balcony and watch the action on the strip, which is pretty calm. Perhaps things will pick up on the weekend.

Mitch and Sara at the Perla Flamente.
Mitch is talking, Sara is incredulous-- as Usual.
 

To liven things up, we decide to check out the jineteo de toros or jaripeo (bull-riding contest) that we have seen advertised. Sara has quizzed cab drivers to find out more information about it.

We take a cab to the outskirts of Puerto and there is a pretty good size crowd in the arena—a smallish, plaza de toro (bullfighting ring.) (There are no bullfights in Oaxaca out of respect to Benito Juarez, who was opposed to them.) We seem to be the only gringos in the crowd, until a couple of seriously disreputable surfer dudes show up. But by and large the crowd is full of families, and small children are running around everywhere under the watchful eye of mothers and grandmothers. And there is a band. There is always a band in Mexico.

This is not a real charrería (rodeo) with other events. There will only be bull-riding. The contests have been underway for a while, and the first thing we see is a charro (cowboy) catch his spur and be dragged and trampled under the bull. He is pulled under the fence and the paramedics amble over to him, and soon he is on his feet, though I can’t imagine how he survived without something broken.

 

 

 

 

Mitch Got the Only Decent Pictures Inside the Arena
Bottom Right is the Dance Contest

The bull rider must stay on for a full 10 seconds, holding the rope halter with only one hand to qualify, just like in U.S. rodeos. There are a variety of bull breeds and the cowboys look and are dressed as they would be in Nebraska. It seems to me that the riders are the only ones with little professionalism. It just takes balls to get up on that bull and hold on, but the other guys who are handling the bulls are very cool. They really seem to know what they are doing and have a real respect for the danger. The spurs do not seem to be rowelled. It’s more of a plate that I guess catches the loose skin of the bull, but does not pierce it.

The bull is sent through the chute chasing a guy who must clear over or under the fence when he gets to the end. Timing is all. The bull is then held in place with several ropes until the cinch rope can be put around him, with what must be a really annoying bell tied on to clang next to his testicles. The bull is firmly held until the chute can be opened into the ring. And then the bull decides to buck, run the rider back up into the fence, or just stand still, probably in hopes that that sonovabitch will just get off his back. If the rider falls off, the other vaqueros are there roping the bull and keeping him away until the rider can make it to safety.

We watch several bulls until there is suddenly a break for a dance contest in the middle of the arena. Cowboys and local babes do a traditional shuffle dance. A cowboy clown emcees the event. A few more bull rides and the evening is over. We walk to the parking lot and thankfully, there are several cabs available.

We have a seriously terrifying ride back to town with the one driver we had all the time we were gone that I would call a real maniac. Still tired from the trip, we come home, have a night cap and go to bed.

 

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