While the pursuit is open to everyone who visits Zipolite, Mexico – any man or woman of any age has the option of taking all their clothes off and ...
ENTRY 23: ZIPOLITE – MEXICO
When you spend three weeks on a nudist beach in Mexico – you quickly adjust to seeing more of the human body than you typically would. I’ve seen the face of naturism and it isn’t pretty. Actually, I’ve seen the face and all the rest of the wrinkly body parts of naturism and it’s down right frightening.
While the pursuit is open to everyone who visits Zipolite, Mexico – any man or woman of any age has the option of taking all their clothes off and frolicking free on the beach – it only seems the ´nudity´ appeals to a certain demographic. That demographic, from the survey of my daily runs up and down the beach, is (unfortunately) men aged 50 to 60. At its core, Zipolite is a nudist beach but not everyone (myself in particular) is participating. In fact, the vast percentage of beach-goers still have their modesty intact. Some are strolling along the warm sands fully clothed; others are sitting at the beachside cafes drinking cheladas – beer mixed with lime juice – and trying to avoid the sun.
It’s a lazy, relaxed scene broken only by the infrequent appearance of naked, middle-aged men and the occasional happy sight of boobs. Realistically, if you visit Zipolite, a tiny village on the far south coast of Mexico, you should know what you’re in for. An old-school hippie hang-out, it’s one of only two nudist beaches in the country and while most visitors are here for the laid-back stoner vibe and beautiful scenery, and there are always those who come to enjoy its lax clothing laws – as previously mentioned – older men, mostly.
Zipolite itself is a charming tiny town. Its greatest asset is there really is nothing to do. The population hovers about the 1000 mark. Puerto Escondido, a busy port town, might be only an hour up the road but it feels like another world. There is, quite beautifully, nothing to do except hang out with a cast of colorful characters on a stunning beach drinking beers and cocktails. At night time, there is a tiny makeshift cinema (a projector onto a factory wall and a few couches) showing poor quality pirated movies.
They have literally cornered the market to prevent sobriety. A corona will cost you 10MX (80 cents Australian) while a bottle of water will cost you 30MX. Beer is literally cheaper than water – and truthfully, much more suited to the stunning beach culture.
Zipolite has one single road, which splits the beachside bungalows from the shops and restaurants that serve them. You rarely see anyone on it – the occasional backpacker, sometimes a stray dog. The street carries the same sense of droopy-eyed indifference in which the rest of the town revels but it adds to the charm.
In such a small place, the same people inevitably keep popping up. Thankfully, Breeza Marina (the complex where I rented my basic but private beach side bungalow for $8 a night) maintained a high standard of lovely neighbors to spend my days with. James and Andy arrived shortly after me – despite spending the first few weeks in a dark room playing on computers – were solid amigos and overall great lads. Andy and I even crashed a party special peoples party together after spying cute woman carers. Not our proudest of moments. Andy, James and I were also banned from the one cafe in town. We still don’t know why!
Anna (who has beer for breakfast – she calls it a Finnish breakfast, we call it a drinking problem) was a legend who spent her days drinking and smoking with the old lads up at a hangout called Felipes. She without a doubt deserves the ¨go hard or go home¨award. Robbie from LA talks loud at inappropriate times and is so indecisive about everything to the point where I watched him mull over what hand soap to buy at the supermarket for 5 excruciating minuets. That being said, lovely bloke - just a horrendously indecisive.
The highlight of Zipolite for me was reuniting with my American mate Ben, who I had not seen since 2009 touring with his band in Australia, coincidentally staying down the beach from Zipolite. Such a coincidence that I saw a posting from him on Instagram and we caught up for breakfast beers the next day! So wonderful to see him again, I also was able to meet his lovely fiance Jordan and mate Camilo. Ben is an absolute rock star – we had a good many beers. It was a pretty early night after starting at 7am but totally worth it.
The beachside restaurants – most of which are palapas, simple huts with thatched roofs – set up their tables and chairs right on the sand. Being the intrepid traveler I am, I ate the same meals at the same restaurants almost every day for breakfast (granola and yogurt at San Cristobal) lunch (the spectacular ceviche from Serinas) and for dinner (tacos or a tlayuda at Lucys).
A tlayuda is a handmade dish in traditional Mexican cuisine, consisting of a large, thin, crunchy, partially fried or toasted tortilla covered with a spread of refried beans, asiento (unrefined pork lard), lettuce or cabbage, avocado, meat (usually shredded chicken, beef tenderloin or pork), Oaxaca cheese and salsa. Delicious.
Roasted granola and yogurt at San Cristobal
Ceviche from Serinas
Pork tacos from Lucys
Days ooze by as you lie around reading books or sipping beers or body surfing. Zipolite’s hippie past comes back daily, through brief snatches of Bob Marley tunes coming from a palapa or wafts of purple haze coming from a bungalow. The locals keep to themselves mostly and the tourists do the same, rarely moving out of their bubble of main street and beach. Not once did I ever see a police officer or any form of authority – a happy and safe town it would seem. Paradise.
Overall, Zipolite had everything I wanted from Mexico. A wonderful beach culture, great food and cold beers, fantastic company and a setting for unforgettable memories. After almost a month, it was time to leave Zipolite. An unreal experience.
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