Searching for Olivia in Oaxaca

Wednesday February 3. Remarkable day! Only one small navigational problem! We couldn’t find the entrance ramp to the toll road going west. It turns out, the ramp goes east, then does a U-turn to the west: completely counterintuitive. And nothing is labeled N, S, E, W. Getting out of Tlachichuca we had the help of a hand drawn map by Mr. Reyes, and getting out of Oaxaca city we had the help of a map and directions provided by the tourism information staff. The rest was pretty much just moving down the highway.

   The trip to Oaxaca was across the central plateau, with lots of cattle and agriculture. After Oaxaca we went up into the Sierra Madre mountains and down to the coast. We must have driven through at least five different ecozones, from desert to pine forest to tropical profusion. On the Pacific side we even had our first bit of rain and fog. The road through the mountains was the windiest Mike has ever driven, and it was a narrow two lane with no shoulders, and it went on and on and on. And he had to pass trucks. And every tiny settlement had reductors: speed bumps. It was after 8pm when we rolled into Puerto Escondido. We went straight to the Playa de los Marineros, to the first restaurant on the beach, and drank beer and ate ceviche. There was a trailer park next door, with no attendant, an unlocked gate and only one set of residents (from Texas). So after wandering around a bit to check out the neighborhood—loud and touristy—we settled in for the night. And a hot night it was. Too hot to sleep even with a sheet. And even ear plugs didn’t keep out the disco music.

Thursday February 4. Ran a few errands to a hardware store and to AutoZone, then headed up the coast highway to find Chacahua, the puebla that Olivia named in her email. It doesn’t show up on our map, and the tourist map that shows it doesn’t show the road. The restaurant owner last night said it would take about two hours, and the turnoff would be signed. When we approached the area where we thought it should be, we asked at a PeMex. He looked a bit skeptical when he asked did we plan to drive our van there, but he said the turnoff was a couple kilometers further. Then the road to the puebla was another 25km. 25km of hell, he should have said. The road was so washboarded it knocked every bolt and screw loose. In Mike’s head as well as the car. I have never heard him swear so vehemently (where have you read this before?). But he wasn’t about to turn around. Instead he decided to drive 60mph and skim over the tops of the bumps. It was an exciting ride for me, but pure hell for Mike who cares deeply about taking good care of his things and not abusing them.

   So we got to Chacahua. Chacahua is actually in two halves, on either side of the lagoon entrance. Going from one side to the other requires a boat. We were told there are two clinics, one on each side. We asked our way to the clinic on our side and walked up there. It was about 2:30pm. The clinic was closed.

   Chacahua Lagoon and much of the surrounding area is a national park and preserve, and includes a

Vultures guarding a sea turtle carcass

research station for crocodiles and sea turtles.  The research station is next to the clinic, and has four pens with about two dozen crocodiles lazing about. We watched them for a while, and only once saw the slightest movement: one stretched his legs and shifted his position without ever opening his eyes. We followed the sound of surf down a small trail through the brush, and came out on a gorgeous, deserted beach with crashing waves. We walked barefoot in the edge of the surf, past some net sheds with numbered research plots of some sort, past the dead sea turtle with attendant vultures, up to the end of the beach where there was a natural arch in granite rocks. We took advantage of the shade, as we were very hot and thirsty and starting to melt down: we hadn’t thought to bring water, and it was maybe 95F degrees. Above the rocks was a high hill with a lighthouse. We followed a trail at the base of the hill, past a small cabana and yard, to a road that led us back to town. 

   After a cold guarana (Sharman) and water (Mike), we were told that the clinic opened again at 4. So we walked back and talked with the only person there, a young doctor hunched over his old IBM laptop (with no internet). He knew nothing of Olivia Vega. So we headed toward the embarcadero to ask for Olivia at the second clinic. The locals chatted us up a while before calling Francisco to ferry us across. The store owner, Juvid, had lived in Seattle for a couple years, and proudly showed us his Washington ID. Francisco had lived in Minnesota for six years before returning home to the puebla and starting a family. He made his living ferrying people in his launch. We buzzed across and the clinic was the first building on shore. It had closed, but we were let in to ask for Olivia. The woman had never heard of her. Olivia had never set foot in Chacahua. There must have been a mistake somewhere. We walked out to the beach to have a beer and ponder what next. “There must be only one Chacahua in Oaxaca,” I said. “No,” said Francisco, “Actually there are two. The other is an hour down the coast from Puerto Escondido.”

   This was the tourist side of Chacahua, with restaurants on the beachfront and hospidajes behind them. But there were no tourists. Just a few locals. We had our beer and chatted with Francisco, then extended it to dinner, enjoyed the sunset. I felt the torpor of the playa.

Francisco took us back to the other side where we accepted Juvid’s invitation to park our van in his family compound for the night. Other than visits from a drunk uncle and two girls looking to check out the van, the strangers, and to practice a few words of English, it was a peaceful, hot night. The bathing facilities consisted of a small bath house with a garbage can of water and a dipper to pour it with. It didn’t keep the sweat off very long.

Friday February 5. We headed out first thing in the morning, back the long, bad road to the highway,

There's no escape

back to Puerto Escondido. A quick stopover for shopping and we headed down to coast for the other Chacahua. Fortunately the road to the puebla from the highway was only 3km and not half as bad. Nor was the destination as interesting. And no one there had heard of Olivia. So the mystery “Where’s Olivia” remains unsolved.

We drove on toward the Guatemala border. This is the narrow part of Mexico between the Caribbean

A massive wind farm

and the Pacific. And the winds are terrific. And you have never seen so many wind turbines! Acres and acres of them; there must have been over a thousand! It was like a sci-fi movie landscape!

I haven’t told you yet about the fires. All over Mexico burning is used to clear the weeds, both for agriculture and along the highway. So there is lots of smoke in the air. Coming in to Tamalapan at dusk we could see some fires on the hillside had gotten quite large and hot and were burning trees and brush. There was a larger-larger-than-usual fire in town near the highway too. After dark, the driver was tired, we couldn’t find a hotel, and so we parked at the Pemex for the night, along with all the truckers, big and small.