Hanging With Captain Ahab

Hello again from sunny southern Mexico. Shockingly, in the month since I last wrote, I haven’t moved from this tropical beach. And I mean I really haven’t moved: I’ve largely spent the past 6 weeks within a ½ mile radius of my hotel.

That’s being generous, because the hotel is right on the sand, and my movement has actually been almost all on the beach (which extends about ½ mile in either direction) and a few yards into the ocean to swim in the treacherous waves, as well as about 100 yards inland from the beach along the 2 streets that make up this little town.

It may sound rather limited, but I can assure you I’ve yet to feel any amount of cabin fever, though I guess that should be its appropriate analog, “beach fever.” This place has kept me as busy as I want to be, with plenty of beach workouts, beach walks, work on my computer (in my room), and reading on my Kindle. I also had a one week visit from my buddy Greg, down from Washington, DC, which provided a welcome bit of contact with “the real world.”

Nature is Alive and Well in Oaxaca

One of the incredible things about this stretch of the Oaxacan coast is the sea life. There are great flocks of sea birds, and lizards among the rocks on the beach, but the most noteworthy thing here is the whales. This time of year they’re right off the beach, so all you have to do is look out there for a while and you have a decent chance of seeing whales sending water high up in the air from their blow holes.

Watching whales in the wild is pretty exciting, but even more impressive is that these particular whales often seem like retirees from Sea World. It’s almost as if they’re performing for the humans, because they so frequently breach the water and put on jumping displays. They vault themselves completely out of the water, do something between a 180 and 360 degree rotation, and then dive back in as their tails flail about, disappearing last beneath the surface. It looks like a tremendous amount of effort compared to, say, the dolphins around here, which are often seen doing the same. I can easily comprehend that kind of strength and agility from the much smaller dolphins, but it’s truly amazing when it’s a massive whale.

These whales are humpbacks, and January/February is peak season for their presence here. They come down from the cold waters of Alaska to avoid the worst of the winter (sort of like me), and here off the Mexican coast is where they birth their calves. They tend to stay close to the shore to keep the calves safe from the killer whales, which are apparently lurking a bit further out into the ocean, hoping for a tasty humpbacked snack. Consequently what you often see is not only the big whales breaching and jumping, but also the babies following suit. I hypothesize that this is the mother instructing its young on “how to be a whale.” Or possibly it’s “how to entertain the humans.”

Whatever it is, it’s happening here, you can watch it from the beach, and it’s a fantastic experience. In an ironic twist for me, I decided to head out one morning on a small boat for a little up-close whale, dolphin, and turtle watching. This coast is also well known for its turtle population, and there are a number of protected turtle species, along with the habitats where they lay their eggs for breeding. The largest turtle species in the world, the Leatherback, which grows to nearly 8 feet in length and weighs almost a ton, is here – though it is rarely seen.

You have to imagine that if you can watch whales while sitting on the beach, then if you take the time to get out on the water, you’re probably going to have them surfacing next to your boat, blowing some water on you, letting you pet them, and probably posing for a selfie with you. Who knows, you might even hop on one for a little piggy-back ride.

You would imagine that, but in my case it didn’t happen. We saw loads of dolphins practically jumping into our little boat; we got into the water and swam around with the turtles; but on this particular morning, the whales were inexplicably shy. We saw exactly one, which chose not to put on a show and then disappeared. That was it.

I can’t say this is the reason I don’t have any good whale photos, though. I didn’t bring a camera along, so I would have come away empty-handed in any case. I wanted to simply enjoy the experience, and worrying about taking pictures would have put a serious dent in that intention. Pictures of whales are easy enough to come by on the internet, so I just didn’t think it was necessary. However, because it seems any blog post has to have pictures in order to make it a satisfying read, here are some of our local whales (from the internet), and this is indeed what it looks like when they’re frolicking:

 

As long as I’m at it, I’ll even throw in some pictures of myself doing yoga on the beach –actual photos taken just a few days ago, not stock footage from the net. These pictures don’t really do justice to my tan. I think the brightness of the sun (or the low quality of the phone on my camera) caused everything in the pics to be rather washed out. I’m pretty damn bronze right now, but I look much more like I’m just white in the pics. I suppose I could have done some color balancing of them using a photo editor on my laptop, but I’m only that vain some of the time.

This little gem of an area I’ve stumbled upon, thanks to the recommendation of my Swedish buddy Bo, has been a great south-of-the-border experience for me. The mix of people who choose to winter here is eclectic, to say the least. Many are here for even longer than me, but of course the majority of people stay for much shorter times – either as an actual vacation from a real life elsewhere in North America (mostly Mexicans and Canadians, not Americans), or a stop on the road for longer term travelers who are pulling to the side for a few days (or weeks) of R&R before heading back out on the road to continue their journeys.

Since Christmas and New Year’s passed, the town and the beach have emptied out considerably. Given that January is when things start to become truly moribund in the winter going on way up north, I would think this is a better time to be here enjoying the sun and heat. But reality being what it is, people have an easier time getting away around the holidays, so now it is very quiet. I’ll take that over big crowds virtually any time.

What is truly enjoyable is that this place is not even close to feeling like it exists only for tourists and foreigners. Yes, there are plenty of guesthouses and restaurants, but there is a full dose of local culture, so you are constantly walking among local  Mexicans being what they are – local Mexicans. The people seem like they’re almost completely unfazed by the fact that foreigners want to come here, and thus the area hasn’t lost too much of its Mexican feeling.

Another thing that works nicely for me is that it’s far, far cleaner here than one finds in the many Asian countries in which I spend time. By “cleaner” I mean in terms of the amount of unsightly garbage that is strewn around all over the place, ruining the natural beauty of the landscape. I’ve addressed this sad and disturbing topic a couple of times in dispatches from India (here and here,) though it’s heavily present in Indonesia, Cambodia, and Thailand as well.

The sedated pace of life here in Oaxaca resonates with me in many ways. For one thing, it’s truly quiet. I don’t mean absolutely without noise, but I do mean that compared to the constant clamor one hears in India, or the incessant motorbike noise of Indonesia , or even the traffic sounds of Austin, Texas, it’s quiet. In fact, it’s quiet enough that many of us around here catch ourselves having the thought, “I wish someone would turn down the volume of the ocean!” This thought is generated by the fact that the waves pound the surf very hard, making a lot of constant background noise. Occasionally you notice it, and the  it doesn’t sound like it’s in the background at all. Of course, there’s the positive point that in pretty much every waking moment I’ve had for more than a month, I have been able to hear the sound of the ocean. I guess that’s a pretty nice statement to be able to make.

On a related note, it’s rather surprising to me the level of importance silence has taken on in my life since I started vagabonding around the world in 2010. Maybe it’s a violent reaction to the fact that there is so much noise in the 3rd world countries I spend time in, and it really gets on my nerves. Maybe it’s a result of growing up spending so much time on golf courses, where one takes for granted that it’s totally peaceful and quiet so much of the time. And maybe it was amplified (no pun intended) when I had the experience of 10 days of total silence back in 2010 at the Vipassana silent meditation retreat in Thailand. And finally, perhaps it’s simply a result of getting a little older myself and just craving less stressful mental stimulation. Whatever the cause, it’s a fact.

That being said, I have to admit on occasion I’d prefer something a bit more lively going on here on the Oaxacan coast. But my time in this region is soon coming to an end. For now. I’ll be off to a next adventure…but I don’t expect it will be long before I’m wishing I were back here at the beach in Oaxaca. And perhaps not too much longer after that wish, I will indeed find myself back here.

 

Post Script: My mention of Captain Ahab (of Moby Dick fame) in the title to this post is clearly not accurate. The quest for a great white whale (or in my case gray/blue) for me has not been a dangerous or violent one. And while I clearly didn’t succeed in my endeavors on the boat, somehow when I’m in this setting, it just doesn’t matter. And as they say in Mexico, my insignificant worries can wait until mañana.