An Homage to Gloria
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An Homage to Gloria Esperanza
Pinky, Fred and I recently had the pleasure of spending a lovely afternoon with Gloria Esperanza, a fascinating lady with some very interesting stories to tell. Gloria had been a legend to me ever since my first visit to Zipolite a few years ago. I mentioned Shambhala, her rambling, rustic resort that sits on the hills at the north end of the beach, in another one of my blog posts. She was, quite truly, the original Flower Child of Zipolite.
I have found her story—how she came to Zipolite in 1969 and ended up staying, and building this rather remarkable place called Shambhala—to be an amazing testimony to the power wielded by a determined female.
I had met Angelica, the woman who runs Gloria’s beachside restaurant, Lo Bohemio, and asked her if she could arrange for me to meet Gloria, and to see some of the jewelry she’s created over the years. I thought that there was a possibility that Gloria might be somewhat intimidating, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. She’s one of those people you meet and feel like you’ve known for a while. Her little dog, Dharma, and Pinky got along just fine. As we visited I heard stories of her first trip to this area, in the late ’60′s. They got off the bus in what was then the small village of Puerto Angel–and they got off in the wrong town. They were trying to go to Puerto Escondido, a larger town further up the coast. They decided to walk the coast a bit, following a dirt path that is now the highway. They ended up in Zipolite, not yet on the map. There was one fish shack, one small tienda, a few local families. There was no drinking water to be had for these gringas from Los Angeles. There were also no toilets, no electricity, and no hotels. The ladies had to camp on the beach and carry big bottles of drinking water along that dirt path from Puerto Angel.
As soon as she saw the cliffs at the end of Zipolite beach, Gloria was hooked. She stayed. Long story short: she married a local fisherman and settled in to life south of the border. One can only imagine what a liberated woman she was in the early ’70′s and because she experienced the macho side of the culture as a wife, the marriage ended 3 years later. But Gloria managed to eventually own the rocky north end of the beach in Zipolite. Paths had to be cut. Jungle had to be cleared. A well had to be dug. Gloria managed to pay a couple of local guys to help her. She also cut, cleared, and dug. But the well water still had to be boiled. Gloria did yoga. She chanted. She had a vision of Shambhala that started as a vegetarian restaurant and became a spiritual retreat. The seekers and the wanna-be hippies started to come. Drinking, drugs, and nudity were not allowed. Gloria continued to build. Shambhala grew. In 1994, Hurricane Pauline happened, and wrecked havoc with Shambhala. Much had to be re-built. Her personal home was damaged, and her jeweler’s tools were destroyed. At that point she started to just work with beads, and those are the pieces I saw. I liked what she had done—in fact, I came away with two necklaces.
At this point, Gloria has had some health setbacks. She finds it almost impossible to get down the hill from Shambhala, so she seems like a permanent part of it, in a house full of her artwork and stories and memories. The gleam is still in her eyes, and she still chants. She chanted while I looked at her jewelry.
Things never stay the same, and I hope that as Gloria is ready to hand It off to the next person (she now is offering part of it as lease to buy) that person will be able to find a way to carry on Gloria’s Shambhala. There is a sign right outside the restaurant that says, “Shambhala, where the 60′s never end. A continuation of the original situation. Welcoming the Return of the Flower Child.” I think Gloria could definitely bring out someone’s Inner Flower Child.
I have found her story—how she came to Zipolite in 1969 and ended up staying, and building this rather remarkable place called Shambhala—to be an amazing testimony to the power wielded by a determined female.
I had met Angelica, the woman who runs Gloria’s beachside restaurant, Lo Bohemio, and asked her if she could arrange for me to meet Gloria, and to see some of the jewelry she’s created over the years. I thought that there was a possibility that Gloria might be somewhat intimidating, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. She’s one of those people you meet and feel like you’ve known for a while. Her little dog, Dharma, and Pinky got along just fine. As we visited I heard stories of her first trip to this area, in the late ’60′s. They got off the bus in what was then the small village of Puerto Angel–and they got off in the wrong town. They were trying to go to Puerto Escondido, a larger town further up the coast. They decided to walk the coast a bit, following a dirt path that is now the highway. They ended up in Zipolite, not yet on the map. There was one fish shack, one small tienda, a few local families. There was no drinking water to be had for these gringas from Los Angeles. There were also no toilets, no electricity, and no hotels. The ladies had to camp on the beach and carry big bottles of drinking water along that dirt path from Puerto Angel.
As soon as she saw the cliffs at the end of Zipolite beach, Gloria was hooked. She stayed. Long story short: she married a local fisherman and settled in to life south of the border. One can only imagine what a liberated woman she was in the early ’70′s and because she experienced the macho side of the culture as a wife, the marriage ended 3 years later. But Gloria managed to eventually own the rocky north end of the beach in Zipolite. Paths had to be cut. Jungle had to be cleared. A well had to be dug. Gloria managed to pay a couple of local guys to help her. She also cut, cleared, and dug. But the well water still had to be boiled. Gloria did yoga. She chanted. She had a vision of Shambhala that started as a vegetarian restaurant and became a spiritual retreat. The seekers and the wanna-be hippies started to come. Drinking, drugs, and nudity were not allowed. Gloria continued to build. Shambhala grew. In 1994, Hurricane Pauline happened, and wrecked havoc with Shambhala. Much had to be re-built. Her personal home was damaged, and her jeweler’s tools were destroyed. At that point she started to just work with beads, and those are the pieces I saw. I liked what she had done—in fact, I came away with two necklaces.
At this point, Gloria has had some health setbacks. She finds it almost impossible to get down the hill from Shambhala, so she seems like a permanent part of it, in a house full of her artwork and stories and memories. The gleam is still in her eyes, and she still chants. She chanted while I looked at her jewelry.
Things never stay the same, and I hope that as Gloria is ready to hand It off to the next person (she now is offering part of it as lease to buy) that person will be able to find a way to carry on Gloria’s Shambhala. There is a sign right outside the restaurant that says, “Shambhala, where the 60′s never end. A continuation of the original situation. Welcoming the Return of the Flower Child.” I think Gloria could definitely bring out someone’s Inner Flower Child.
Dressing for the Beach. Or Not.
I have no idea who these guys are, or what they were up to. They are not appropriately dressed for the beach, that’s for sure. Now let’s consider a whole different direction for beach attire.
Did I mention that nudity on the beach in Zipolite is okay? In fact, as is pointed out on some websites, nudity is one of the things that this beach is known for. No shirt, no shoes, no pants; no problem. (But you can leave your hat on.). So everyday, sunrise to sunset, there are a fair share of beach-goers who are just letting it all hang out. Nudity is certainly not required, nor do the majority of the people doff their duds, but it is pretty constant. As in, at any given moment there is probably someone in your field of vision who is naked as a plucked jay bird.
I have always prided myself in being very open-minded, pretty liberated (especially when it comes to other people’s behaviors), and non-judgmental. Yet I find myself pondering this situation, and trying to figure out how I feel about it. And how I feel, in a word is — conflicted.
It bothers me that I tend to think I would like for most of these free spirits to wear a sarong, or at least a thong. Perhaps some “private parts” need to stay private. Somehow full-frontal nudity walking in my direction feels just a bit confrontational.
Since I am fairly self-centered, the first thought I have is, “Would I do that?” The answer is definitely, “No”. But I’m not sure if it is because of modesty or vanity. I’m sure part of the “no” is motivated by a desire not to be checked out. The reason I think l would be checked out is because I check other people out. I look at the nude ones with a much more critical eye than I use on the ones in attire. And, in the course of analyzing how I feel about the situation, a lot of what I’m analyzing is my own thoughts. I am, in fact, viewing others through critical and judgmental eyes. I don’t think that’s very nice. I would much rather look at beautiful bodies that out-of-shape, sloppy ones. That, too, makes me feel kind of hard-hearted.
However, one of the first things you realize is that most of the people who take part in the nudity do not look fabulous without their Speedos. They are male and female (although probably 70% are male), all types and all ages, but only a small minority could dance for tips. I think that the ones who could really pull off pulling it all off usually don’t and the ones who might want to rethink the whole thing are the ones who do. I certainly wouldn’t want to rain on their parade or cramp their style, and I appreciate their lack of self-consciousness. I really do. But then, I ask myself how anyone could possibly not be self-conscious while walking up and down the beach naked. Keep in mind I am not talking about just discreet sunbathing ( which I wouldn’t give a thought to). I’m talking about walking up and down the beach, or finding a very prominent spot to do your morning yoga, or your afternoon tai chi. Some days I think I have landed in the middle of an exhibitionist convention. Of course, all this is very dependent on the weather, and it is hot here. And, nudity only happens here on the beach. No one is trucking around on the main street without at least a bikini. In fact, on the website of the place where we are staying they respectfully request that residents don’t go nude on the pathways. No worries about the Ellis bunch messing up on that one.
It doesn’t really bother me, it simply puzzles me on a number of levels. In questioning how I feel about it, I have to question how I feel about the freedoms of others and where lines should be drawn. The real truth is, I find it a little bit entertaining, and that kind of bothers me, too.
Did I mention that nudity on the beach in Zipolite is okay? In fact, as is pointed out on some websites, nudity is one of the things that this beach is known for. No shirt, no shoes, no pants; no problem. (But you can leave your hat on.). So everyday, sunrise to sunset, there are a fair share of beach-goers who are just letting it all hang out. Nudity is certainly not required, nor do the majority of the people doff their duds, but it is pretty constant. As in, at any given moment there is probably someone in your field of vision who is naked as a plucked jay bird.
I have always prided myself in being very open-minded, pretty liberated (especially when it comes to other people’s behaviors), and non-judgmental. Yet I find myself pondering this situation, and trying to figure out how I feel about it. And how I feel, in a word is — conflicted.
It bothers me that I tend to think I would like for most of these free spirits to wear a sarong, or at least a thong. Perhaps some “private parts” need to stay private. Somehow full-frontal nudity walking in my direction feels just a bit confrontational.
Since I am fairly self-centered, the first thought I have is, “Would I do that?” The answer is definitely, “No”. But I’m not sure if it is because of modesty or vanity. I’m sure part of the “no” is motivated by a desire not to be checked out. The reason I think l would be checked out is because I check other people out. I look at the nude ones with a much more critical eye than I use on the ones in attire. And, in the course of analyzing how I feel about the situation, a lot of what I’m analyzing is my own thoughts. I am, in fact, viewing others through critical and judgmental eyes. I don’t think that’s very nice. I would much rather look at beautiful bodies that out-of-shape, sloppy ones. That, too, makes me feel kind of hard-hearted.
However, one of the first things you realize is that most of the people who take part in the nudity do not look fabulous without their Speedos. They are male and female (although probably 70% are male), all types and all ages, but only a small minority could dance for tips. I think that the ones who could really pull off pulling it all off usually don’t and the ones who might want to rethink the whole thing are the ones who do. I certainly wouldn’t want to rain on their parade or cramp their style, and I appreciate their lack of self-consciousness. I really do. But then, I ask myself how anyone could possibly not be self-conscious while walking up and down the beach naked. Keep in mind I am not talking about just discreet sunbathing ( which I wouldn’t give a thought to). I’m talking about walking up and down the beach, or finding a very prominent spot to do your morning yoga, or your afternoon tai chi. Some days I think I have landed in the middle of an exhibitionist convention. Of course, all this is very dependent on the weather, and it is hot here. And, nudity only happens here on the beach. No one is trucking around on the main street without at least a bikini. In fact, on the website of the place where we are staying they respectfully request that residents don’t go nude on the pathways. No worries about the Ellis bunch messing up on that one.
It doesn’t really bother me, it simply puzzles me on a number of levels. In questioning how I feel about it, I have to question how I feel about the freedoms of others and where lines should be drawn. The real truth is, I find it a little bit entertaining, and that kind of bothers me, too.
