Part One: The Turning Tide IV
We took a chivera to the main bus stop where the route to Pochutla begins. This stop is located opposite Puerto’s largest supermarket, Chedraui. The bus was quite comfy and in a functional state—somewhere between an ADO and an AU bus line. Before boarding, we bought refreshments at a local store and started our carefree adventure!
The bus traveled along the main highway to Huatulco, known as "La Costera." From the bus, you could appreciate the magnificent Pacific Ocean in the distance on the right, along with the surrounding nature. We passed many places: Zicatela, La Punta, Barra, Escobilla and Ventanilla, to name a few. We also drove past a mezcalería. We could have made a stop there, but we decided to save it for our return trip.
I was taken aback by the barren and untouched nature that my eyes beheld. At that time, in comparison to many other Mexican beach destinations, the Oaxacan coast remained unexplored and blessed without tourist exploitation.
The journey to Pochutla took about an hour and a half. Like many Mexican bus routes, it stopped frequently—almost in every village—with passengers constantly getting on and off. I enjoyed watching the locals and imagining their lives; their clothing and belongings suggested most were hard-working people traveling to or from work. It bothers me that many foreigners still hold the stereotypical view of Mexicans as lazy. The dedication and hard work of Mexicans supporting their families are truly unmatched.
We arrived at what seemed to be a makeshift roundabout, where chiveras and taxis were already lined up, ready to take passengers to Puerto Ángel. We opted for a taxi, which operates as a colectivo (meaning you share the ride with others). It was a rather wild experience; you might find yourself tightly packed, possibly with a fellow passenger’s butt cheek ending up on the driver's lap, their arm, or perhaps on your own legs. I quickly shook off the embarrassment and embraced the adventure instead.
Once we got to Puerto Ángel, we immediately saw a chivera—our final ride to Zipolite. I was thrilled to finish our journey in such an iconic beach vehicle. I grinned and stared at Jorge, who already had one leg inside the crowded pickup.
The drive in the chivera was quite an adventure, mostly on dirt roads with a lot of stopping and starting before we finally arrived. The pristine diverse landscape was amazing— huge and full of life. I was struck by the tierra colorada—the rich, red soil characteristic of Oaxaca. Along the way, we saw many roadside stands selling all sorts of tropical fruits. They looked delicious, freshly harvested, chopped up, and served in disposable plastic cups.
At long last, we reached Zipolite, a place famous for its nude beaches and vibrant hippie culture. You might ask why I was drawn here. At that point in my life, I was younger, carefree, and driven by a thirst for discovery. My main goal was to shed the preconceptions associated with this lifestyle and explore new ways of experiencing life, embracing a completely different perspective than the conservative religious background I was raised in.
