After surfing I return to my hotel before hunting down breakfast. It’s later in the day and not many places are serving it anymore let alone just a bowl of fruit. My hotel is within a five minute walk to the beach, the very reason I chose it. I wander down to see what’s open. The road meets the beach a little south of the playa principal. I cross the small trail of a river to get to the playa principal where all the restaurants are lining the beach. I walk up to the shop above all of the fishing boats I know has fresh young agua de coco. The owner is friendly but doesn’t say much as I sit enjoying my coco. Back on the beach I find a vendor selling pre-cut pineapples with the option to top it with the typical Mexican sabores: chili, lime & salt. I buy one and sit at the stall to enjoy every spicy piece. I go for a swim. It’s too hot to eat much more. After a few hours I go back to the coconut restaurant and order tostadas. They come rolled instead of flat like I’m accustomed to but they are delicious. 

A guy riding a scooter slows down on the street in front of me and asks if its good. I nod. He parks the scooter down the street and walks back. Even though I’m sitting alone at a table for 4, and there’s only one other table for 4 he sits at the other table and starts asking the owner questions in english about the menu. While the owner knows a fair bit I can tell he’s a little lost, they both are. I pipe in with the words I know and it gets sorted out. The American gets his fish grilled and we begin to chat across tables. A family of four arrives, and since I’m almost done and we’re already talking I move tables to sit with my friend for this afternoon. We cover the bases of travel, where from and where to next when he asks me if I want to go find this area he’s heard of where the turtles hatch and walk into the ocean. It’s only 4pm and I have no other plans. I ask him how much experience he has riding a scooter. Several years of riding his own motorcycle back at home. I ask him what kind of motorcycle he has. A honda 150, he prefers the small ones for scooting around town. Buffalo NY. Off we go.

Oh, and his name is Erik, with a k he tells me.

The scooter is small and we don’t go above 60. Scooters and motorcycles on the highway are common here and traffic flows around us freely. We drive until we get to the bridge to the river then take the road down to the right. Farms surround us now as we keep driving down to the ocean. The beach is big, beautiful and completely empty.  We walk down to where the river meets the ocean and pass three fisherman with a net in the river. They’re walking it down towards the narrow mouth. Further down we come across one of the volunteers who works for the organization protecting the turtles so they can hatch in safety and walk down to the ocean. Baby turtle is both a delicacy here and illegal to catch. Erik asks him about the turtles and if there are any close to hatching. Not right now he says. Erik then asks about the fisherman and what they’re doing. They’re fishing, it’s like a fish garden, there’s no way for them to escape right now. The river isn’t running into the ocean right now as the tide is out.

We keep walking down to the point. The clouds are magnificent this afternoon, puffs of marshmallows fluffed across the sky. I wish I knew what kind they were and I tell Erik the story about my old environmental science prof who I’m still fb friends with and will sometimes say what type the clouds are in photos people post and tag him in asking. I’m going to ask Steve I say. We get to the very point at the mouth of the river when the tide turns in and starts to flood the sand peninsula we walked out on. No turtles but it’s beautiful and so peaceful.

We turn back and all the way back to the scooter watch the sun get closer to the horizon. It’s not setting yet. Punta Zicatela has the best sunsets from my research I tell him. That’s where my hotel is he replies. We head there and arrive just as the sun is dipping down. I get another agua de coco and he gets a beer. We sit on the beach with hundreds of others until the sun is gone. After, Erik really wants to show me his hotel, “it’s made out of surf boards!” So we walk over and it really has tons of old surf boards lined up along walls, hung above in rafters. The hotel is like the treehouse in Swiss Family Robinson with suspended walkways, outdoor showers and I’m sure there must be a rope swing somewhere. We find a restaurant serving ceviche and enjoy a snack. The day finally hits me. It’s only 8:30 but I am zonked. I spot a cab driving by dropping someone off at the end of the street. I motion for him to come back for me and bid Erik adieu.

Back in Puerto Escondido I’m hungry again so I wander down to the night market and find a corn on the cob which once I say I’ll take it, got smothered in mayonnaise and dowsed in cheese. I have never tasted old corn so good.