It would take 35 hours in all to travel from Xilitla to Puerto Escondido, a handful of buses and long lay-overs no doubt being made all the more bearable thanks to the apothecary I was now carrying with me.
Unshowered and thoroughly air-conditioned we should have been carry a health warning by the time we reached our hostel, Tower Bridge; in the end our host Colin, tattooed to within an inch and the dictionary definition of ‘woah, dude’ barely batted an eyelid as he showed us to our simple private room.
Surfers flock to Escondido and we were soon surrounded by lots of man-boys wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts and a suspicious look. But we weren’t there to steal their waves, instead heading to the nearest playa first thing, hiring a lounger and kicking back for an afternoon of very little at all.
Being unable to swim here is a bit like taking a kid to Disneyland in a power cut, so mornings, naturally, were also about breakfast. El Cafecito came good – a restaurant-cum-bakery, there was lots to keep a brunch hunter happy: fresh cakes, huge plates of pancakes and all the trimmings, fresh juices and decent enough coffee. Next door we found a bookshop with a host of spy-thriller trash, therefore completing the virtuous circle of a morning’s preparation for doing bugger all.
Price: from $15 MX (homemade cake).