Baby sea turtles

My favourite activity in Puerto Escondido was releasing endangered baby sea turtles safely into the ocean. Our hostess Adelina at our guesthouse, Quinta Lili, drove us and two other guests to where the turtle eggs are carefully protected (see white buckets) from their main predators (sea birds and stray dogs). The beach, which is not an official sanctuary, is about 15 minutes away from the guesthouse. The fenced area is on a stretch of beach between two beach houses.



After they hatch, the baby turtles are kept in the dark buckets until sunset so the turtles can scurry to the ocean unharmed. The darkness also keeps the turtles inactive so they can conserve energy for their long swim.



The release of the turtles (also called Liberacion de tortugas) is organized by the local environmental group, Selva Negra (or Black Jungle). This group
does not yet receive government funding. The government is also not involved in saving baby sea turtles in this area of Puerto. Adelina, seen with the blue bucket, is very involved with Selva Negra, and attends most turtle releases and is a passionate advocate for the turtles.



At sunset we lined up with a group of locals and tourists, washed our hands in seawater and stood to receive our turtle. Depending on the season, there are three types of turtles: black, green and leatherback. I'm holding a green sea turtles which is the smallest of the three.




Adelina carefully nudges the slowest turtles, including the one I held, into the surf.



Blayne and I enjoy a spectacular sunset (not sure what the spots are).

Beaches of Puerto Escondido

Some scenes from our exploration of Puerto Escondido's beaches.

Puerto Escondido

So Natasha and I spent Christmas week in beautiful Puerto Escondido, a small seaside town in southern Mexico. When your days consist of meandering down to the beach, swimming a bit, and ordering drinks (the mojitos at Rosarito’s on Zicatela beach were excellent), there’s not much to say. I managed to read a few heavy books: an unauthorized history of The Simpsons, Paul Shaffer’s thoroughly enjoyable memoir, and Ta-Nehisi Coates’ memoir of growing up as the son of a Black Panther in Baltimore (a very good, if not great, first book, though his blog sings). Natasha stuck to books on organized crime and the heroin trade. Your typical beach reads, in other words.

The nice thing about Puerto Escondido is the choice of beaches within a 30-minute walk. And even though it was the week before Christmas, they weren’t crowded at all. Zicatela beach is the most famous. Apparently it’s known as the “Mexican pipeline” for the good surfing, but we actually didn’t see many surfers, at least from the reclining chairs in front of Rosarito’s. Playa Principal is more like a working harbour (quite a few small fishing boats are moored there) than your typical resort beach, and is lined by many restaurants. We had a nice romantic dinner our first evening there at Pascale’s. I had the bouillabaisse and Natasha had what she says is the best tuna (seared) she’s ever tasted.

The other beaches are a bit away from these main ones, but are still pretty easy to get to and are much better for swimming and beginner surfers. Playa Manzanillo and Playa Carrizalillo are more like coves and seemed to be most popular with Mexican families. We had excellent fish tacos and fish quesadillas at one of the many beachside stalls at Manzanillo. Natasha particularly liked the fresh coconut: once you’re finished drinking it, they slice the coconut open (with a machete!) and serve the coconut fruit with hot salsa and lime.

And if you like seclusion, Playa Bachocho was long, windswept and practically deserted. It was my kind of seclusion, though, with two unobtrusive resorts within easy walking distance when your pale, pale skin starts to char.

Actually, the best part was our guest house, Quinta Lili. I’ve been known to lay on the superlatives a bit thick (a la Lionel Hutz), so I’ll quote Natasha, who says that Quinta Lili is, without exception, the best hotel/B&B/whatever we’ve ever stayed at. And we’ve been to Tokyo.

It’s a family operation (five rooms) run mainly by Luis and Adelina. Luis designed the place himself, based on a nautical theme, with each room having its own distinctive design. The rooms are ultra-comfortable, and there’s a small pool and Jacuzzi out front. Luis and Adelina took great care of us: within a few hours of arriving, Adelina had volunteered to drive us to help release some sea turtles. The highlight was a Christmas Eve dinner they hosted for the guests (an interesting, eclectic bunch themselves) at Quinta Lili and their brand new hotel. We didn't have turkey, but the prawns and sea bass were spectacular. The breakfasts were very tasty, and included fresh fruit and traditional Mexican breakfast food. Natasha's favourite was the potato tacos.

Have a look:

Stray cats and Parliament

I always thought that stray cats were a special feature of the Canadian Parliament. (Parliament Hill is home to a colony of stray cats: Insert Canadian Senate joke here.)

However, on the grounds of the Palacio Nacional (which is sort of like the Mexican White House), we found over a dozen well-fed but skittish stray cats living amongst the plants. Everyone talks about the Diego Rivera murals in the Palacio Nacional, but for us, the cats and the cactus garden (how cool is it that the Mexican President's official residence contains a cactus garden that is open to tourists?) was a highlight.

Winterlude with fake snow

I didn't expect to see snowmobiles and children sledding in the heart of Mexico City, not only because it was twenty-five degrees but also because I had deliberately escaped Ottawa to avoid the snow. Blayne thought it was a Christmas parade until we heard the roar of snowmobiles and saw children flying down the icy ramp of a fake toboggan hill. Suddenly all the people wearing heavy sweaters, coats, mittens and matching earmuffs made sense--we were at a winter festival sponsored by Pepsi and Blackberry.

The second picture shows children packing snow into snowman sculptures. Note the presence of official volunteers assisting the children unfamiliar with snow.

Templo Mayor

In Mexico City, Blayne and I wandered around Templo Mayor which was one of the main Aztec temple sites (near
the Zocalo) when Mexico City was Tenochtitlan. The temples were destroyed when the Spanish conquerors took over the city. In 1978, city workers discovered parts of the ruin and eventually the excavation site widened to uncover the ruins of the temples.

Given that this was a series of Aztec temples, blood was a reoccurring theme. My favourite part is the large collection of obsidian knives that people used for 'auto-sacrifice' or as the museum explained 'devotees cut into themselves or cut fleshy bits off themselves to fill an offering bowl or soak fabric to offer to the gods.' I also liked this bat-faced god.

Christmas poinsettias -- Mexican style

Friday night, December 18th, we walked through Coyoacan, a charming area with a laid-back atmosphere. We wandered through Jardin Centenario at the centre of old Coyoacan. For those more familiar with poinsettias sitting indoors during the Christmas season, here are poinsettias Mexican style--outside and alive. It's the first time I actually liked poinsettias!

After wandering through the park we headed to dinner at a local restaurant recommended by Blayne's neighbour Hugo. It was packed with groups celebrating Christmas, including a group of women in a private room we heard chanting what sounded like cheerleader songs. Great food--a perfect beginning to an escape from icy Ottawa.

In Mexico

For those of you who are still subscribed to the blog, Natasha and I are at the start of a three-week vacation in Mexico. We're here in Mexico City until Sunday, then it's off to Puerto Escondido (beach and sun) and Oaxaca (culture) before returning here on Dec. 30. Stories and photos to follow. We hope you enjoy them.

B&N

Downgraded from economy class (an Air Canada horror story)

This is a bit of a rant about Air Canada. Because of my trip to Australia last year, Air Canada gave me a book of upgrade coupons. Since it was Air Canada, I fully expected the coupons to be invalid and completely worthless under normal circumstances. So I was pleasantly surprised yesterday when I was upgraded from economy to executive class for the first leg (Ottawa to Toronto) of my 6:00 am flight to Mexico City. It was pretty exciting, being my first time among the privileged few. I savoured the larger seat, the leg room (even though I'm short) and the fresh orange juice, yoghurt and fruit.

I didn't really expect to be upgraded again for my flight from Toronto to Mexico City, but I certainly didn't expect I'd end up where I did. In Toronto, I joined the general queue to board the aircraft. When I handed my passport and e-ticket to the Air Canada attendant, he scanned the ticket, frowned, and then kept typing and sighing. He then handed my ticket to another woman who said, "Oh, that's her." This isn't good, I thought. The Air Canada woman explained: "We really tried to upgrade you but there was a problem and we couldn't, but by that time we had given away your original seat. So we've downgraded you."

I didn't even know such a thing was possible. What's lower than economy? Steerage?

"What does that mean?" I asked. "Do I still have a seat?" "Oh, yes," she said, "but now it's an aisle seat in the last row." I had paid an extra $20.00 for window seats -- I always travel in window seats.

What's so much worse than seat 12A (window)? Thanks to Air Canada's new downgrading program (pay $20 to choose your seat, be tempted with an upgrade, lose your original seat), I now know the answer: seat 29C (aisle). I pushed my way to the back of the aircraft and to my irritation found that 29C is actually a crew seat. That can't recline. And that is right next to the bathrooms.

To make matters more surreal, for some reason my presence in Downgrade Section upset the flight crew. The flight attendants were annoyed that I got their seat, apparently believing that I had somehow demanded this prime location. Demanded their seat? Like any sane Canadian I didn't even really want to be on their plane. If I had had an option I would have chosen a Soviet-era Aeroflot flight over Canada's national airliner.

This isn't to say it wasn't an educational experience, it was just I learned some things I didn't really want to know. When you're sitting with the blue-noses in Economy class you don't think much about airplane bathrooms. I, for one, had no idea that so many people continue to ignore their parents' advice to go before you leave home. As soon as the pilot turned off the seatbelt sign, the stampede for the bathrooms began and didn't let up for the entire flight. Almost immediately, the area around 29C (so prized by a certain type of flight attendant) was enveloped by the not-so-fragrant odours of human sewage -- unfiltered even by the sickly chemical smell that would be familiar to anyone who's ever taken a long-distance bus trip. At some points even the flight attendants were gagging. Throughout the five-hour flight, there was a constant stream of people bumping my seat in their haste to get to the bathroom. This crowd was exacerbated by the flight attendants shoving the drink carts through the throng.

I also learned quite a bit about an Air Canada flight attendant's duties. When they're not expressing barely concealed envy and contempt for the fortunate few in Downgrade Class, they seem to spend most of their time cursing the various storage units that won't properly open, broken chairs and roast-beef sandwich shortages. Actually, I guess this prickly attitude won't come as a surprise to anyone who's ever tried to complain about Air Canada's subpar customer service (their numbers are legion).

In the time-honoured retail-industry tradition that the flight attendant is always right, they even managed to get my seat in the end. Near the end of the flight, as I was attempting to escape my odoriferous present through the magic of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: The Motion Picture, a flight attendant told me that I would have to give up my seat to a crew member. But where would I go? I was half-expecting to be told, "We're just over Mexico City, here's a parachute," before being herded toward the back exit and charged a $20 early-exit fee.

Instead (fortunately or unfortunately, I'm not sure), they moved me to the middle seat (29B, for those of you keeping track at home). But there was already a guy sitting there, who they moved -- I am not making this up -- to an empty seat... in economy class.

I can't wait for the flight back. Maybe I'll get to see where they stow the animals.