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A little about Playa Zipolite, The Beach of the Dead . . .

Playa Zipolite, Oaxaca, Southern Mexico, on the Pacific Ocean. A little bit about my favorite little get-away on this small world of ours.

Zipolite, a sweaty 30-minute walk west from Puerto Angel, brings you to Playa Zipolite and another world. The feeling here is 1970's - Led Zep, Marley, and scruffy gringos.

A long, long time ago, Zipolite beach was usually visited by the Zapotecans...who made it a magical place. They came to visit Zipolite to meditate, or just to rest.

Recently, this beach has begun to receive day-trippers from Puerto Angel and Puerto Escondido, giving it a more TOURISTY feel than before.

Most people come here for the novelty of the nude beach, yoga, turtles, seafood, surf, meditation, vegetarians, discos, party, to get burnt by the sun, or to see how long they can stretch their skinny budget.

I post WWW Oaxaca, Mexico, Zipolite and areas nearby information. Also general budget, backpacker, surfer, off the beaten path, Mexico and beyond, information.

REMEMBER: Everyone is welcome at Zipolite.

ivan

ZIPO TV

Monday, January 26, 2015

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La Vista Desde Entrada Picture Of Posada Brisa Marina Zipolite GoPixPic La Vista Desde Entrada Picture Of Posada Brisa Marina Zipolite Picture. Login to Comment. Pixed into the bookmark ...


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Zipolite



http://www.puertoangel.net/zipolite/zipolite_en.html

Sunday, January 25, 2015

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Saturday, January 24, 2015

Professors visit their Mexican Plantation

Professors visit their Mexican Plantation

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Posted: Saturday, January 24, 2015 12:10 am | Updated: 12:10 am, Sat Jan 24, 2015.
The Rock Island Tropical Plantation Co. was a public company incorporated in 1905 in Rock Island. The plantation was in Oaxaca, Mexico, on the Isthmus of Tehuantepec.
The company planned to raise crops and harvest timber. Capital stock for the company was $2,400,000. The public was offered shares in the company. Several former Swedish professors from Augustana College appeared to be either running the company or promoting it.
Two groups of three men visited the plantation in its early days to report their findings to interested investors. (Last week’s column covered the first group that included Rev. L.G. Abrahamson, H.E. Casteel and Dr. J.F. Myers.) In February 1908 former Augustana professors Dr. Johan Harold Josua Lindahl, Olof Z. Cervin and G.S. Atkinson went to the plantation to check on its prospects for success. The Lindahl group wrote reports of their trip.
When Lindahl arrived in Moline from his home in Chicago to prepare for the trip, G.L. Peterson, president of the plantation company, and Dr. J.A. Daniel, secretary, supplied him with money for the journey. Highlights of their trip follow:
Lindahl’s group reached Mexico City on Feb. 22. (The distance between Rock Island and Oaxaca, Mexico, on Google is 2,312 miles) Feb. 26 they reached Professor V.O. Peterson, plant manager, by telegraph.
They received instructions that the manager of the Joliet Plantation was sending saddle horses so they could visit his plantation. Later they went to Salina Cruz a seaport on the Pacific Ocean in the state of Oaxaca. They saw steamers transferring cargo to and from cars of the Tehauantepec Railway. So the men decided there would be adequate shipping for their lumber until the Panama Canal was opened.  Their concern, however, was whether the railway would extend to their plantation. The condition of the roads was also a concern.
Next they visited Peterson and his family at San Geronimo and continued on to the temporary company headquarters at Sarabia. From there they rode saddle mules to examine machinery some distance from the company’s saw mills where it was needed. Their journey ended at the Coatzacoalcos River.
“The Modelo Plantation and our company have jointly established a ferry landing there,” wrote Lindahl in his report. Lindahl said they spent the night in “the heart of the primeval forest.”
Cerin saw that night differently. His back was already tender from riding a mule for six hours. They slept in the attic of an Indian hut with a tree trunk with notches cut into it for a stairway -- a shaky affair. The floor of the attic was built of small trees laid in one direction and branches roughly trimmed crossing these. On top were some palm leaves over which blankets were spread. Cerin had to rearrange himself about every 20 minutes that night.
“My two companions left me at Sarabia by the first train to Mexico City. I remained with Professor Peterson all Thursday, March 5, and spent two days at the Buena Ventura and  La Junta plantations and at Sanborn,” wrote Lindahl. Lindahl was home March 14.
“In summing up my impressions regarding our company’s business I firmly believe in its great future and I am hopeful for good returns in the near future,” wrote Lindahl. He seemed to have glossed over the difficulty of moving machinery for the saw mills.
He worried, however, that uneducated native Mexicans would not be much help. “The well educated are generally the wealthy, who want no work and the intelligence of the average peon is not sufficient to learn, for example, how to interpret and apply the regulations in an internal revenue office. Another unforeseen hindrance is the planting of corn in a clearing as planned by Professor Peterson.” There had been an unusual amount of rain that February so the corn could not be planted as planned.
“In conclusion, I would say that our stockholders would do well in trusting implicitly in our present management and in giving them all the financial and moral support they possibly can. Much more money must be spent before any good results can be expected,” wrote Lindahl.
“Picture to yourself wandering in a tropical country, in a great forest of trees from 75-150 feet high where the Aztec Indians lived and roamed for years, where the grass and leaves are always green, where there are no seasons of the year. You can plant your crops any day of the month or any month of the year and you can be sure of returns. No such thing as drought or frost is known. Two or three crops of corn a year is not uncommon,” Atkinson said in his report.
Atkinson saw no reason the company should not succeed.  “The element of time, however is an uncertainty. Anyone who has visited Mexico will be struck with the difference between the way business is transacted there and in the United States. I think however, that no agricultural proposition possessing the meritorious features of the one we went down to investigate can fail.”
Their plantation was in a “deep wonderfully cool and grand forest,” according to Cerin. “We never tired of looking at it. The air tasted delicious. It was not like the bleak, dusty plateau of the north where only the Yucca endured.”
He said of all the plantations they saw, theirs was the best.
(To be continued).

Zipolite


http://www.younow.com/rocknonstop

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mazunte Dos chicas do Mexico - WordPress.com So we headed for Mazunte 65 km east along the coast, the new hippy hang out. To get to this part of the coast we needed to take a 10 hour night bus ...

mazunte

The Oaxacan Coast with a capital A

Before embarking on our trip to Mexico a friend of Sophie and I’s raved about the Oaxacan coast. He had spent two weeks there when he was 21 learning to surf and living in a cabana on the beach in pure tropical paradise. So it was top on our list of places to go. After researching the coast, Puerto Escondido where our friend had stayed in blissful paradise, was now ten years on, a major tourist destination and the cabanas had been replaced by large hotels. So we headed for Mazunte 65 km east along the coast, the new hippy hang out.
To get to this part of the coast we needed to take a 10 hour night bus along winding mountain roads. At the start of the journey I was not feeling good and as soon as the coach started on the curving roads my stomach started to churn. As on all buses in Mexico the onboard TVs were blaring out a film, this time it was ‘The Impossible’ with Naomi Watts. The screaming and mangled bodies of the aftermath of the Tsunami was not a welcome soundtrack to my nausea. After an hour or so the road, the film and my stomach had begun to settle. Nearing the end of our journey as dawn began to break the road started to twist once again but this time it was Sophie’s turn to hold down the vomit. Eventually we were set down in Pochutla, a small dusty village where a taxi took us to Mazunte.
As we drove through lush tropical forests I knew we had come to the right place. We had booked a night in the most highly recommended cabana on Tripadvisor to ease our early morning arrival. How had we not learnt by now?! We arrived at a dusty unkempt sight atop Mazunte cliff. There was no one around as we picked our way amongst the debris to the ‘kitchen/reception’, there were empty bottles everywhere as if it were the sight of many parties. After a few minutes the owner appeared, hung over and dishevelled. He explained there was a party last night, and they are off to a luna eclipse rave that night too if we wanted to join. He is very chatty and shows us to our room. Instantly we ask for another option, it is a dorm room above the ‘party’ kitchen, this is not what we booked. Next he takes us to a half built room, the builders are still working on the room next door. I asked about the workers as we had not slept and needed a rest, he said that they would not working today and it was the only room he had left. As soon as we had settled down to take a nap the workers began banging next door. So I attempted to have a shower, there was no curtain and the shower was in the centre of the camp. After setting up my sarong in the door way I turned on the light to discover a cloud of mosquitos and this was Dengue season, so no shower for me. Soph and I see this places potential, it is set on a stunning site with incredible views but there has been no up keep which has let the place down.
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So we decided to leave tomorrow. Unable to sleep we walk down to the beach to eat and hunt out a new place to stay. Mazunte beach is a stunning double crescent bay with low surfing waves lapping the golden sand. We are impressed by the beach and definitely want to stay.
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Whilst eating fish Tlayudas, a sort of folded Mexican Pizza, we bump into Kirsty and Freddy our travel friends, suddenly Mexico feels like a very small place. They have no advice on places to stay as they are in a Posada on the next beach over. After an exhausting and thorough investigation of pretty much every accommodation option in Mazunte we decide on Posada del Arquitecto. Their cheapest room is an open walled Palapa in the trees with a platform swing bed and awesome views. Soph is not too keen on the lack of walls but the natural setting soon grows on her. This will be one of my favourite places we stay in, in Mexico.
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But first we have to stay one night at our place on the cliff. Well we nearly don’t make it back after dinner; the streets are transformed by the darkness and we lose our way and are unable to ask for directions as we have forgotten the name of the Cabanas. Sophie keeps cool whilst I panic and she eventually finds our way home. The camp is now deserted and it is eerie in the full moon light. Our room feels unsecure and is sweltering hot. As we fiddle with the curtains to encourage more air flow we uncover a huge scorpion on the wall.  It is too large to catch but luckily as we dither as to what to do it runs up into the roof and does not reappear.
We do not sleep well and are up and out early. We creep out of the camp in the hope that our exit will go unnoticed but just as we are about to be clear of the place the owner appears asking despondently if we are leaving? We simply answer, ‘Yes’ and continue on our way. Unfortunately we take his dog Frida too! As we make our way down the hill road Frida follows, we think she will give up after a certain point and go home but after 10 minutes we realise this is not her plan. She follows us all the way into the village, up some stairs and into a restaurant. We try to explain that this is not our dog and luckily we are believed. But Frida is still with us! There is nothing to do but take her back. Sophie gallantly runs back up the hill and returns her to the owner.
Settled into our tree top palapa we spend the day on the beach and enjoy cocktails in the evening as the sunsets. We talk of spending longer here in this sandy paradise.
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Sadly our time in Mazunte does not go as planned.
As the birds wake in the early dawn light I am also awake with severe stomach ache, nausea, and all over muscle pain. I wake Sophie and tell her I am feeling unwell and ask her to take me to the bathroom as I think I am going to be sick. I spend the next few hours vomiting and have to spend the day in bed. A few days pass and I do not improve, fever, headaches , intense muscle pain and exhaustion. Sophie discovers that Kirsty is also very unwell so she and Freddy amuse themselves on the beach Whilst we two ladies rest.
Sophie asks around for a doctor but there is none in Mazunte and we will have to travel to Puerto Escondido. A woman at our Posada is very helpful, feeds me a special healing honey and offers to have an 83 year old Shaman woman come to perform a ritual. I am reluctant to go to the doctor because of my past experience with mononucleosis, a part of me is terrified that a Doctor will diagnose me with this illness again. But after seven days in bed with no improvement I give in and Sophie takes me to Puerto Escondido.
Sophie is wonderful, she carries my bag the entire way, finds me an English speaking doctor and by lunchtime I am settled in a hotel room having had blood tests and will have the results by seven. The Doctor has warned it may be Dengue Fever and so we wait.
We return to the Doctor at 7.30pm with my results. He goes down the list of results, my lymph nodes are very active indicating a virus, could be Dengue, but no my blood is negative. He turns over the page. ‘Oh it is much worse!’ he exclaims. ‘You have Hepatitis A!’ The next 10 minutes are a blur; he rambles on in a mildly threatening manner, explaining that I must stop drinking alcohol, go on a strict low-fat diet and that I am highly contagious. There is nothing much to do but wait it out and Sophie must get tested as well.
As soon as we get back to our room we begin to google. It is not life threatening or a permanent disease but it can last months with symptoms recurring for up to a year and all on a low-fat, T total diet and no kisses from my love for some time! And before you ask I have had the vaccination.
The next day Sophie goes for her tests at the same clinic as me. As she sits down with the nurse, the nurse says in English to her, ‘So Bonnie has HIV.’ What? Sophie asks her to repeat. A tense fear runs through her body. ‘Bonnie has HIV.’ Sophie replies with lowering assertion, ‘No Bonnie has hepatitis A.’ The nurse responds ‘Yes that is what I said Bonnie has HAV, Hepatitis A virus.’ Phew.
Sophie gets back from the clinic and tells me her misunderstanding with the nurse we laugh in nervous relief. When we later go back to collect Sophie’s results, which are clear, the same nurse repeats loudly over the reception desk for the entire waiting room to hear, that Bonnie has HIV but Sophie does not. This then becomes an in joke between Sophie and I about my illness.
The weather turns with my diagnosis and it rains solidly for three days. My Dad has kindly offered to pay for a weeks recuperation in a more salubrious hotel and we move to Santa Fe, a lovely old fashioned colonial hotel with well stocked English library, cable TV and onsite restaurant. As the weather brightens I gradually start to feel stronger and enjoy lying by the pool.
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After a week we move down the road to the cheaper but also charming Swiss Oasis where the owner kindly looks out for me as my strength slowly builds. The pool is beautiful and we get to know the six resident cats and some lovely fellow travelers as I am unable to get out and do much exploring.
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I do manage it down to the beach on our last three evenings to watch the sun set whilst the surfers ride the Mexican half pipe. The waves are at times over seven metres tall and the surfers here are truly amazing to watch.
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We also make it down to one of the smaller bays and realise what this place must have been like when our friend James had been here years ago.
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Time has been slipping by as I have been resting and the Day of the Dead is fast approaching! It is something I have always wanted to see and be a part of and I am unwilling to give up going to Oaxaca City to experience it just because I am ill. So we book what seems to be the last room in town and prepare ourselves for reportedly the worst bus journey in Mexico.

Travel > Americas Mexico's street food: Beyond burritos Yolanda Zappaterra travelled to Oaxaca for a taste of savoury chocolate sauce, slow-cooked pork stew and toasted grasshoppers

Mexico's street food: Beyond burritos

Yolanda Zappaterra travelled to Oaxaca for a taste of savoury chocolate sauce, slow-cooked pork stew and toasted grasshoppers




With its elegant colonial buildings, an impressive arts and crafts scene, top-class museums and markets selling mounds of mole (sauce) and the state’s other favourite food, chocolate,  Oaxaca is a city that both looks and tastes  good. The regional cuisine encompasses fiery, earthy mountain dishes and delicate seafood, crowned by stand-out restaurants such as  Casa Oaxaca – one of the two Oaxacan establishments on the World’s 50 Best Restaurants list. The other is Pitiona, whose chef Jose Manuel Baños Rodriguez has done stints  at elBulli and Arzak.
To make up for missing the radish fest, I delve into Pitiona’s six-course tasting menu at a courtyard table with a kitchen view. I watch chefs craft complex dishes such as sopa de fideos, a noodle and bean soup that is presented with delicate globes of cheese that burst into liquid in the mouth. Each course is paired with a Mexican wine, craft beer or mezcal from small producers that now thrive as part of the country’s burgeoning gourmet scene.
I also sample dishes at Casa Oaxaca, El Típico, La Biznaga and La Olla. The range of flavours, spices and textures is as varied as the ingredients, which include delicate squash blossoms and mole chichilo (beef stock, chillies, onion, garlic and lime-cured flour). However, to get to the heart of Oaxacan cuisine, I need to visit the food markets.
Here I find the country’s finest selection of moles – salsas made from a base of black chillies, chocolate and sesame seeds to create mole negros; and more unusually from yellow or red chillies, tomatillos and fresh herbs, or ground pumpkin seeds, to create moles such as amarillo, coloradito, salsa verde or pipián.
At Mercado Sánchez Pascuas, I join scores of Oaxaqueños at tiny family-run fondas (food stalls) to try some of the seven varieties  of moles on offer, memelas (tortillas topped with lard, cheese and salsa verde) and grilled empanadas – pastry filled with fiery chicken and yellow mole sauce. During the rainy season, huitlacoche, a fungus that grows on corn, is added to the mix to give an earthy flavour quite unlike anything else. These antojitos, or little snacks, are as cheap and homely as Mexican food gets, but just as delicious as refined restaurant dishes.
At the shops along downtown’s Mina Street, I watch hair-netted, masked men toil over industrial mills to grind cocoa beans into chocolate and moles, all available to sample and buy for the equivalent of pennies. Just north, at Mercado 20 de Noviembre, the huge clouds of curling smoke and burly butchers pressing me towards slabs covered with wafer-thin meat may make the huge pasillo de carnes asadas (passage of grilled meats) look like a modern Hieronymous Bosch scene of hell. However, it smells like heaven – the meats are grilled and served in beef or pork tacos. Equally appealing are the signature Oaxacan tlayudas – huge baked corn tortillas topped in the manner of pizzas with everything from pork lard and the local stringy, mozzarella-like cheese, quesillo, to avocado and tomatoes.
Across the road at Oaxaca’s oldest market, Benito Juárez, women sit beside mounds of chapulines – grasshoppers toasted with garlic, lime juice and salt. They are an acquired taste which, despite two or three attempts, I never get the hang of. More palatable, I’m assured later, are the caviar-like escamoles: ant larvae. Another local – and cheaper – flavour is nopal, the slimy prickly pear cactus leaves that offer another distinctive taste.
I’m much more enamoured of the agua frescas on sale everywhere – flavoured, natural waters. I chose a Jamaica – made using dried hibiscus flowers – from the huge selection at Casilda’s stall in Benito Juarez market, where the crowds are three-deep and the everyday pastel-coloured plastic jugs belie the beauty of their contents. I join the throng, knowing that it will be worth the wait, and that in half an hour’s time, I’ll be ready for another antojito – though maybe not the grasshoppers.
Getting there
Mexico City is served from Heathrow by British Airways (0844 493 0787; ba.com) and Aeroméxico (0800 977 5533;aeromexico.uk.com). Volaris (volaris.com),  Aeroméxico and Interjet (interjet.com) fly daily from Mexico City to Oaxaca.
Eating and drinking there
Pitiona, Allende 108 (00 52 951 514 0690; pitiona.com).
Casa Oaxaca, García Vigil 407 (00 52 951 514 4173;casaoaxaca.com.mx).
El Típico, Zarate 100, off  El Llano square (00 52 951  518 6557;facebook.com/ RestauranteTipicoOaxacaEnMexico).
Biznaga, García Vigil 512 (00 52 951 516 1800;labiznaga.com.mx).
La Olla, Reforma 402-1 (00 52 951 516 6668; laolla.com.mx).
Mercado Sánchez Pascuas, Porfirio Díaz and Callejón Hidalgo.
Mercado 20 de Noviembre, Ignacio Aldama and 20 de Noviembre.
Mercado Benito Juárez, Flores Magon and Colon.
More information
visitmexico.com
On 10 February, Alejandro Ruiz, from Casa Oaxaca, will be cooking in London at Wahaca, Covent Garden in the the first of a Culinary Trip Through Mexico series. Four-course meal with coffee, £40 (wahaca.co.uk/blog).