Day 350 - Zipolite, Mexico - 6608 km

Check-in at Zipolite beach doesn't go very smooth, I drag my bike to a corner of the beach and carry my luggage up stairs where the Airbnb is not. Eventually I find the place,  a bamboo house on stilts, right on the beach. The host is not there and the old dog guarding the property is agitated and bites me in the leg. A quick snag, it doesn't really hurt. I’m thinking about writing this in the bad review on Airbnb later, while the host keeps texting me for an hour that he is 'arriving now’.

The typical attitude in beach town Zipolite, everything is layed back. It makes me think of Goa in India. Hippies settled in Zipolite the sixties and since then it has been a place without worry where the heat never settles and you can smell the weed everywhere. I'm here because friends in Mexico City recommended it. A place to wind down at the seaside. A 'clothing optional' beach, the only one in Mexico they say.

It’s off season and the beach looks deserted. The bars are empty and there’s a red flag warning against the tide. Violenty the waves crash on the steep beach, I feel them pulling me in when I take a few steps in. On a daily basis people need to be resqued from drowning on this beaches - the Pacific is treacherous, everywhere I’ve been. These days there’s not much to resque, I feel like I’m visiting a bar on Monday morning. Zipolite is sleepy, a bit trashy, a lot of places under construction. I’m not sure if I want to stay here.

Then Alvaro, my Airbnb hosts arrives. The bamboo hut is really nice. The balcony, tucked in the palm trees, has a view over the ocean. Yesterday I cycled down from the mountains and was struck by the high humidity. I had forgotten how intense it was. You sweat all the time. But when I get used to it I like humidity, it calms you down.



The bamboo hut is open, so I’m basically outside all the time. I set up my laptop to write a bit. The sound and aroma of the sea enchant me and brings me back to moments in India and Thailand. I forget the time and I need to hurry to find a restaurant which is still open. In winter time (tourist season) this would be no doubt, but now when I walk up the beach almost all bars are closed. It’s mostly dark. In front of me walks an incredibly beautiful, nude couple. I can hardly see them but now and then lights cast on their dark tanned bodies. A young tall latin girl, with tiny curls. The guy is lean and strong, evenly tanned like people who live here. Their beauty makes me crave and feel alone. A feeling I have to put aside, I’m fine, I have nothing to complain. I chose a free life. Being alone at times is part of that. 

Then I find a restaurant which is still open. It’s dimly lit, and poorly decorated. All tables are empty except one where two men are drinking. One is naked, the other almost. Back in the restaurant sits an old Mexican lady with a hand under her chin. The boredom on her face confirms it’s off season. I ask if there is something to eat and she comes alive. I ordered the fish filet, which is overcooked and the salad seams off season too. I’m eating the lousy meal while I stare in the dark at the dark ocean in front of me, which I can only hear. I stay a bit and write up this story on my phone. The naked man stands up. He can barely walk because he’s drunk. From table to table he shuffles to the toilet and almost falls under the weight of his big belly. His nakedness makes him animalistic. Nudity reveals both beauty and ugliness.

The next day I relax and work on my new website. It’s warm and humid in my hut but its nice. The wind blows through a bit. Downstairs Alvaro and his friend are building another hut. They are carrying palm leaves to a storage to dry for the roof. I make a coffee naked. It feels liberating, also legit because it is so warm. Strangely it doesn't feel weird to be naked here. When I walk out on the beach I think about walking to the grocery naked in Amsterdam, which would be totally inappropriate. Here it feels natural. The sound of the sea builds a wall around this place.  The sand is course and thick and my feed sink away. The ocean looks the same as in Puerta Vallarta, a few hundred kilometers north where I was at the Pacific last time. The colours are the same as I’ve seen it in the US. I’ve seen it many times. Washington, Oregon, San Francisco, Venice Beach, Baja Calirfornia. I feel spoilt. This might be the last time I see the Pacific on this trip.

At night I take a shower. There’s no hot water, but in these temperatures the cold water feels nice too. When I go out I keep my body wet, so the ventilator cools me down and chill out on balcony where the crickets scream loud in the night, trying to compete with the noise of the ocean. In the tropics it's never quiet. It's a bit odd to be here, on this quite beach. I’m on the road full time, and in a holiday resort when it’s not holiday. But the wifi is fast enough and I have a table, so I can do some work on my laptop. Do the things I’d do in the office at home but now and then taking a break for a dip - all in the nude. Life is not so bad.