Budget,
Backpackers,
Surfers,
Beach Lovers,
Naturalist,
Hippie,
Sun and Sand worshipers,
Off the Beaten Path Paradise! Everyone is welcome at Zipolite!
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A little about Playa Zipolite, The Beach of the Dead . . .
Playa Zipolite, Oaxaca, Southern Mexico, on the Pacific Ocean. A little bit about my favorite little get-away on this small world of ours.
Zipolite, a sweaty 30-minute walk west from Puerto Angel, brings you to Playa Zipolite and another world. The feeling here is 1970's - Led Zep, Marley, and scruffy gringos.
A long, long time ago, Zipolite beach was usually visited by the Zapotecans...who made it a magical place. They came to visit Zipolite to meditate, or just to rest.
Recently, this beach has begun to receive day-trippers from Puerto Angel and Puerto Escondido, giving it a more TOURISTY feel than before.
Most people come here for the novelty of the nude beach, yoga, turtles, seafood, surf, meditation, vegetarians, discos, party, to get burnt by the sun, or to see how long they can stretch their skinny budget.
I post WWW Oaxaca, Mexico, Zipolite and areas nearby information. Also general budget, backpacker, surfer, off the beaten path, Mexico and beyond, information.
1. What is the Camelopardalid meteor shower?It would be dust from a periodic comet called the 209P/LINEAR. The Earth has never run into the debris from this particular comet before.
2. Why is it unique? Unlike other meteor showers expected to be visible around the same time of year, the Camelopardalid is uncommon because its debris is strongly influenced by Jupiter's gravity. No one has seen it before, but the May shower could rival the Perseid meteor shower in August.
3. When is the optimal time to view it? People in North America will get the best look, and peak activity will be from 2 a.m. to 4 a.m. ET Saturday.
4. What will it look like? Perhaps what is most exciting is that it is unclear what the shower will resemble. "It could be practically nothing, or it could be a couple hundred meteors per hour," said William Cooke, head of the Meteoroid Environment Office at NASA's Marshall Space Flight Center.
5. Camelopardalid is an odd moniker. How are they named? Meteor showers' names are for the constellation from which the meteors seem to radiate. That point is known as the radiant, and the radiant for Camelopardalid will be the constellation Camelopardalis (the giraffe).
A few months ago I bought a bottle of Vida, an organic mescal. It is made in the "lush, remote mountains and valleys of Oaxaca (wa-ha-ka) Mexico," a region I have long dreamt of visiting. When I opened the bottle to taste this twice-distilled mescal, I think I was expecting something akin to a fine tequila, but this was very different. It smelled of tobacco leaves and was a little like a very earthy, rustic, smoky scotch. Vida was also a little rough, I decided. I put it away.
Some months later, while sniffing spices at the World Spice Merchants in Seattle, I found some dried pasilla chilies from Oaxaca. I could not resist these smoky, deep red chilies. But I didn't actually use them until last weekend while I was making stock from chicken bones. I didn't have much to put in the stock, so I threw in a couple of carrots and a dried pasilla. I was rewarded with a rich, complex stock that was just a little smoky.
I put the stock in the refrigerator and pondered what I would do with it. That very night, I was watching "Anthony Bourdain Parts Unknown." He was in Oaxaca watching the old-school cooks make tortillas over outdoor fires—and he was happily drinking shots of that smoky mescal.
The place and the people seemed beautiful, and once again I wanted to go to Oaxaca. But since I cannot, I decided to make Oaxaca-inspired soup, as my stock was already pasilla-infused.
Many elements of this soup are based on a vegetarian garlic and pasilla chili soup from a 2006 "Food and Wine" issue about Jacques Pépin in Mexico. I added the chili/chicken broth and shredded rotisserie chicken. I used less garlic (the other recipe used a whole head) and tortillas rather than bake croutons as the garnish. Next time I make it, I might cook the chicken in the pot with the chilies.
Regardless, this soup was seriously delicious, and it transported me to a place I have never been — maybe it was Oaxaca. I think I'll sip a shot of that smoky mescal with my next bowl. I have acquired a taste for Vida.
PASILLA CHILE AND CHICKEN SOUP
Look for these chilies in the Mexican section of markets, or in Mexican markets. I found good Oaxaca pasillas at World Spice Merchants at worldspice.com. I used three chilies: one in the stock and two soaked in the stock.
1 quart chicken stock, simmered with a pasilla chili
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 pasilla chilies
1 medium onion, diced
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 big tomato, diced
1 teaspoon of salt (to taste)
1/2 teaspoon dried Mexican oregano (Greek or Italian will do)
2-3 cups shredded, cooked chicken
Warm corn tortillas or fried tortilla strips
Make a simple stock with chicken bones, 1 quart of water, onion, carrots, celery and a dried chili. Refrigerate and skim off the fat. Reheat the stock, and when it begins to boil, pour it over two pasilla chilies in a bowl. Keep chilies immersed for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, sauté the onions and garlic for about 5 minutes, then add the chopped tomatoes, oregano and the chicken/pasilla broth. Heat to boil, then simmer for about 30 minutes. After it cools a bit, blend in small batches for a smooth broth. Serve hot with warm tortillas (or fried strips), avocado slices, cilantro and a squeeze of lime. It is also good with a dollop of plain yogurt or shredded Mexican cheese such as queso fresco.
The road winds lazily up a mountain pass. The peaks that surround are tall and rotund, dry and dusty. Wind whips by and peels off a layer of the red and purple earth depositing it on my shirt as if flaps in the wind. The hillsides are blanketed in cacti by the millions. All sorts and kinds. Tall thirty and forty foot high single branch obelisks proclaim supremacy whilst twenty-foot wide flat-pedaled behemoths of comprised of hundreds of trunks protect its boarders. It’s a foreboding place. I relish my spare fuel and water. From the pass’s peak the road bends softly ninety-degrees. Before me is Oaxaca. A colorful Capital City nestled in hilly valley encircled by towering desert peaks. The soft-clouded sky of the setting sun rests atop the peaks in concentric circles of green, purple and pink as if the city is fitted with a royal crown.
The highway relinquishes its grip on the valley floor and gives way to the cobble-stone streets I’ve become so accustomed to. Oaxaca follows the same formula as all other Mexican towns, yet everything is bit more gripping, a bit more engaging, a bit more special. The streets are formed not of irregular round stones, but of broad, flat, perfectly spaced rectangles, the buildings a shade brighter than most. The graffiti though present is bereft of gang-tags, in place exhibits of modern art, decedent and detailed, comprised of brushstrokes not spray paint, covering entire city walls. The iron grates overlaying the windows trace designs of paisley and whimsy, often adorned in colors and flowers. From the main square a ten block walking mall lit by lampposts and punctuated by food carts and popup restaurants forms the main thoroughfare.
Credit Skippy Mesirow
The town being older than most, numerous monolithic two and three story buildings tower, built of yellow and green limestone as if in the old city of Jerusalem. Many cathedrals are present but the church of Santo Domingo at the town’s center is particularly grand. Inside fifty foot high archways are finished in a latticework of gold, precious stones, and murals reminiscent of the sixteenth chapel.
The town is literally blanketed in creativity and initiative. Past each unassuming door a treasure lies within. Small farmers markets, artisanal food and craft beer collectives, wine tastings, local art exhibits and boutiques, yoga studios. Large markets and tiny shops display the creativity endemic here, people do not yell at you or inflate their prices, and they are artisans, not hawkers. Beautifully hand tailored clothes intermix traditional textiles and colors with modern fashion, beautiful flowing gowns of coral and yellow lined with Aztec tapestries. Parking garages have been converted into business incubators where young Oaxacans develop apps, build companies, and work to protect the environment. Art even pervades the street as local artists drive around and park to display modern art museums on wheels, housed in painted busses or cars.
The people are warm and kind, even quick to spark up a conversation, rare in Mexico. Smiles and contentment are ever-present. There is a pride here that can be seen in the gate of every local and felt in the admiring gaze of visitors. Every park is filled with families, kids playing, parents conversing, everyone enjoying local cuisine, chocolate and coffee.
Credit Skippy Mesirow
Oaxaca too is the center of Mexico’s culinary scene, a world onto itself. Mole is the best known of its creations, a thick black or red sauce made of chili, chocolate, coffee and as many as thirty unique spices. This is also the birthplace of chorizo and one of the centers of Mexican coffee. The olfactory joy of these splendid creations as well as tortas, memellas and empanadas fill the air. The smell of fresh ground beans emanates from coffee shops and the smell of chocolate permeates the streets from the shops of chocolatiers. This is the hometown of hot-chocolate. Mazcal, the lesser-known cousin of tequila is grown here and local distillers and purveyors sell endless varieties of the smokey elixir.
There is a special sauce here, much like the mole Oaxaca is known for, a city running on all cylinders, dynamic and creative with an absolute sense of self and an unbridled excitement for the future. It is a truly special place. This can be felt at all times of day, from the cool light of daybreak to the warm afternoon breeze at a café to the markets of the evening and the restaurants and bars of the wee hours. This is a place worth of a visit, and deserving of more time, truly special and worthy of its place on my, very, short list. I will depart tomorrow morning my soul warmed with a great sense of contentment, a mind full of great memories, and a belly full of amazing food and demure that I need leave so soon.
After nearly thirty countries and hundreds or thousands of cities or towns, my list, that all important list, that tiny, infinitesimally small list of places I’ve visited that I would be willing, even wanting, to live in for some period of time has grown. To four.
Luang Prabang, Laos. Hoi Ann, Vietnam. Beijing, China. And now, Oaxaca, Mexico.
Oaxaca is so captivating, so inviting, so vibrant, so smart and delicious and kind and seductive that I simply cannot escape without the addition of its name to the list. It is, an uncommonly fantastic town.
