“Estas bien?”
“Estas bien?”
It took a moment for my addled brain to comprehend what our driver Maria (not her real name) was asking. It had been arranged between the condo owners and Mrs. Grumpymarty to have Maria drive us from Huatulco International airport into town. Maria is a sweetheart with a lovely smile and engaging personality that instantly puts one at ease. Maria also only speaks slightly more English than I speak Spanish which in essence means she “no hablas Ingles.” Oh my! Google Translator got a good workout on the ride in as Maria and Mrs. Grumpy attempted to converse while Mr. Grumpy sat in the front seat enjoying the air conditioning and taking in the new sights and sounds of this enchanting little town, a completely happy ignoramus wishing to God he put more effort into making use of that Rocket Spanish app on his phone.
I am going to put this out there right up front – this is not Lonely Planet. We are not intrepid world travellers circling the globe in search of hidden gems and hair-raising adventure. I won’t deny that I haven’t travelled because I have. I’ve travelled often and to many places, having a myriad of wonderful experiences. This was in fact our third trip to the Huatulco area, the first two trips staying at the Barcelo and Secrets all-inclusive resorts, trips that left a positive impression and an urge to return. For this holiday though we wanted a little authenticity to go along with being a fat mess in the sun and the town of La Crucicita is perfect for doing both. There are 9 different bays and 36 beaches in Las Bahias de Huatulco and the condo we rented overlooked one of the bays, Chahui.
The unit itself was built less than a year ago, has all the modern conveniences you would expect including a gas stove and American sized refrigerator, AC and flat screen tv’s in both the main living area and master bedroom. I am happy to say that the tv’s were not turned on once during our week stay; it seems a bit idiotic to me to travel 6 hours by plane to a tropical paradise so that you can watch Netflix. The AC also never got turned on. Turns out you have to pay extra for air conditioning, on top of the rental fee and we had no idea how much that would be so it was decided to keep it off unless a serious cooldown was deemed necessary. It wasn’t. A delicious cross breeze was created when we opened windows at both ends of the apartment and it wafted through keeping temperatures inside at a comfortable level. Not that we were inside very often because this place also had a rooftop terrace with a plunge pool.
After dropping our gear and getting into clothing appropriate for the climate (flip flops, shorts and tee shirt), it was time to get something to eat. The A & W breakfast sandwich at 7 am wore off many hours ago, as did the M & M’s and granola bars on the plane. Real food was needed in a bad way and since the area of Huatulco known as Santa Cruz was only a ten minute walk away, it was decided to explore there.
Santa Cruz beach is very popular with the locals, especially families with younger children because the waves here are quite gentle. It was well after dark when we found a spot to dine, which happened to be on this beach, and there were still many people splashing about. We ate fresh tacos on the beach, fish and chicken, sitting in plastic seats, at plastic table, toes in the sand. It was delightful. The bill came. It was in pesos. It’s Mexico, pesos are the currency in Mexico. We didn’t have any pesos, only US dollars. All businesses down here take the American dollar but they don’t always use the official exchange rate. It’s best to ask beforehand or better yet, just get pesos. There is the possibility of underpaying or in our case, drastically overpaying. El Senor from the restaurante was more than happy to take our cash when we squared up. Listen, these tacos were freaking awesome but not 37 US dollars awesome. Looks like Grumpymarty miscalculated that one by a bit. The actual bill was probably under 10 bucks. Mrs. Grumpy was sceptical of my math and had asked if I was sure the total was correct but I was absolutely sure because I know these things and I am never wrong you know, except for when I am and in this case I was wrong, spectacularly wrong. We were however still blissfully ignorant of how wrong I was until passing through check out at Chedrui, the grocery store we visited on our way back to the condo that first night.
In many ways, food and culture form a symbiotic relationship, becoming so intertwined that when you think of one, the other automatically comes to mind. An excellent way of catching a glimpse of a particular place’s food / culture is by walking into a local grocery store. Don’t believe me? If you are Canadian, like I am, go to a grocery store in America, or England. Things are different, way different. English chocolate bars are superior by the way, no joke! Chedrui was an excellent way for me to get a taste so to speak, of southern Mexico. Let me tell you, I was not disappointed. Chedrui is like the Mexican version of Walmart, it has everything. You can buy a new scooter for around 23,000 pesos (roughly $1,200 US dollars) here. Cuban cigars, wine, beer, board shorts, running shoes – got those too. The selection of peppers blew my mind, I had to hang out there for a little bit just smelling them all, like some gringo freak. Once Mrs. Grumpy re-focussed me, we went about locating and purchasing what we needed. It was a decent haul and when the cashier showed us the total, the realization came that someone’s math from supper on the beach was shall we say, a bit off. Not going to say more, but all those groceries were like $25 less than supper. Hey, shit happens!
Next post – the ocean!