Beach Musings

I'm baking on a beach early on a Saturday morning in Acapulco watching a group of boys play a lively, if furious, game of beach soccer. The breeze coming from the ocean feels magnificent!

All too often I am accosted by vendors selling cruises, hats, shell jewelry, chains, sand pails, pastries, sunglasses, scarves, juices, you name it. The rest of the time, I am bothered by men whistling, calling out "Morena!", or attempting to talk to me in Spanish, which I pretend not to understand. Then they try in broken English, which I also pretend not to understand. Mean of me, I know, but I just want to sun, journal, and daydream on the sand before my flight leaves in 6 hours.



Leaving the Beach
It was so HOT. (Check out the tan.) Luckily, I had this sarong with me to protect me from the rays. Why men must've thought this was extra-sexy?? They were tryin' to holla for REAL while I thought I looked prudish as all get-out.

Calling on the LORD in Cairo, Egypt

Never one to take the LORD's name in vain, after a hard day in Egypt I involuntarily let out a "Woo, JESUS!" before I caught myself. I had to go all the way back to my roots when my Mudear used to call on the LORD when she was dead tired. That was me today.

Dodging and ignoring the men was a constant battle. I had to be wary of men who sidled up to me making innocent conversation or offering to help me find my way. It turns into an offer to visit their family's shop or asking me a million questions about myself. Now I don't mind male attention & I'm accustomed to getting it while I'm out and about, but these people are aggressive! They don't take no for an answer. Thing is, they wouldn't dare approach an Egyptian woman. It is completely against societal norms.

As tough and easy-going as I am (yes, a contradiction), I shed a few tears the first day I was there. I found few could be trusted, the men were pushy and overbearing, and the women were of little help. Almost everything was a scam!! (No exaggeration.) It also did something to my psyche to be stereotyped and treated differently based on my gender and nationality. Funny, but I'm accustomed to discrimination based on my race in the USA when it happens. It's hard to explain. Determined not to let these factors get in the way of my enjoyment I adopted the look you see above and took to wearing my iPod, which I rarely do while traveling, so I could block out the advances of the men. If I couldn't hear them, they couldn't bother me. I also learned not to make eye contact with them as they saw that as an open invitation. I learned to say الذهاب بعيدا (pronounced em-shee), which means, "Go away", although that was of little help and not a very nice thing to say. Covering myself as much as possible helped, too.

A quick study, by the end of Day 2 I was negotiating with merchants, rudely pushing my way through lines and crowds, and staying in my place as a woman with the best of them.


Smiling at the Pyramids

Impromptu Lunch Date in Athens, Greece‏

I was looking for a nearby street that led to the Benaki Museum (they had a Greco painting I desperately wanted to see) and just couldn't seem to find the street in this particularly tangled section of Athens. It was free admission day at the museum and I wanted to get there before it closed. I looked around for someone to ask and this African man was walking towards me. With so few people of color around, I decided to ask him. That would also give me an opportunity to find out where he was from originally. I asked my question in Greek and he responded in English. That was no surprise as I have found most Africans I meet during my travels speak English. He asked me where I was from. I told him the US. He was from Sudan. He pointed me in the right direction. I thanked him and moved on. Darting across the street and looking at my map, it wasn't long before I was lost again. Deciding to start over, I darted back across the street so that I could start at the last known familiar point. Guess who was walking across the street on the other corner? My African friend. He looked up and saw me and headed back. I guess he felt sorry for the poor, lost American lady. I bashfully admitted that I was lost again and he offered to walk with me.

As we walked, we exchanged names. His name was Hasan. He asked me if I would like a soda. I hesitated and said no. He asked again and told me not to worry, it was just a soda. He seemed very nice and it was the middle of the day in busy downtown Athens, so I took him up on his offer. He said he knew a great place along the way. We ended up at Casba. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat. It was a quaint, open deli that served sandwiches, pizzas, juices, and sodas. Hungry from all of my walking, I decided on a slice of pizza. As I was about to pay for my meal, he jumped in and told me it was his treat since he had invited me. I tried to argue, but he wouldn't hear of it. Not wanting to offend, I gave in. He found a spot for us to sit on the crowded corner and I tried not to embarrass myself by wolfing down the best pizza I'd ever eaten. Greek pizza, topped with green and black Greek olives and feta, is on a whole 'nother level. I also ordered soda that was tingly, apple-y and refreshing. We talked while we ate and I found out he currently works in Crete and was on vacation for a week in Athens.


When we were done, I prepared to say my goodbyes and head to the art museum. Hasan offered to walk with me. Great! On our way, we passed by the Parliament building. I'd read about the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and planned to check it out before I left. Hasan told me it was almost time and said I should stop to see it. I really wanted to get to the museum, but this was the perfect opportunity to be there before the crowd began to form. I took pictures of the stoic guards and we stood in the shade of a tree to await the top of the hour. Pretty soon, people began to gather and the ceremony began. It was pretty amazing. The soldiers are called Evzones. The men are extremely precise and regal. Their uniforms consist of kilts that contain 400 pleats, one for each year of Turkish occupation. Even while standing in place for the hour, they don't move or even appear to blink despite the people standing next to them to have their picture taken.



When the ceremony was over, we headed to the museum. At the museum, the staff took my camera (no photos allowed), handed us a brochure, and waved us in. I really wanted to see the Greco, so I went in search of it first. I hate to admit it, but I was a bit disappointed because there were only two small, faded icons. Still, it was a treat to see his work in this medium. After that, we kind of moseyed along looking at the other artwork and finally settled on a bench to just talk. Hasan shared with me stories his life in Crete and how fortunate he was to have such a well-paying job so that he could send money home to his family. After a while, we got up and walked the remaining floors of the museum and returned downstairs to retrieve my belongings.

After the museum, Hasan suggested we visit the National Gardens which was located behind the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. We spent hours wandering the shaded pathways, occasionally running into ruins or sleeping visitors. I told him I was headed down to Cairo in a few days and mentioned I'd had a hard time finding an Arabic phrase book before I left the States. He asked me what I wanted to know and offered to teach me. He knew Arabic because Islam was his religion and he spoke it growing up. He pulled out an Arabic book and attempted to teach me some of the writings. It was quite difficult and he admitted Arabic isn't so easy to learn. Still, he explained some of the mechanics to me which was very interesting. Next, he taught me the words and pronunciations of the phrases I wanted to know, such as hello, goodbye, please, thank you, where is..., can you help me, etc.
After the park, Hasan wanted to show me Syntagma Square. Syntagma, also known as Constitution Square, is a popular area in the center of Athens. We were near it earlier at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, but there's a different vibe in the evenings. It's festive and lively with crowds of people milling about shopping and eating. By this time it was really late and I needed to get back to my room. I tried to say goodbye, but he insisted on walking me to my room. I told him that was okay. It was only a subway stop away and I would be fine. He wanted to see me when I returned from Egypt, so he gave me his number. We hugged goodbye and I returned to my room.

While I simply set out to view a Greco, I ended up making a new friend over a fabulous lunch in lovely Athens, Greece.

Mi Pelo III

He sat next to me as I lounged on a bench on the zocolo in Acapulco, Mexico.

"Your hair is very pretty," he said in Spanish.
"Thank you very much," I responded in Spanish, smiling.

Next, he asked if he could touch it. "Si." From there, we talked for hours. Sometimes in English. Sometimes in Spanish. We talked about everything from relationships to difficulties learning the others' language. We had great fun laughing at the tourist who took the mike and decided he was Elvis incarnate. When he switched up and sang "Unchained Melody" from the movie Ghost we both yelled, "Ghost/Phantasma" in the others' language at the same time dissolving into giggles. All too soon it was nearing midnight and I had to go because I had to get up early. We exchanged emails and said our goodbyes.

As I walked away down the still-crowded street, I heard someone yelling my name. It was Vicente. He said he was supposed to meet his friend, but he didn't show up. I didn't believe him, but I was happy for the company. I really wasn't paying attention as we walked, so we casually got lost which he playfully pointed out when he saw me looking around. I jumped at a loud clang! that came from one of the many open businesses & he reassured me with a "No te ocupre (not to worry)", that he would protect me. He was so sweet.

We finally found my hotel. We talked a few moments more, said our goodbyes again, and promised to write.

Mi Pelo
Mi Pelo II

Mi Pelo II

I am fascinated with my hair and on occasion find others are, too. After all, no other group of people on the planet has hair like this; it is unique to those of African descent. I often find myself playing in it, enjoying the texture, the softness, the uniqueness. Sometimes it feels like cashmere. At times, I allow friends and family to take liberties with touching it, but there's a limit. (A sistah's tender head can only take so much.) I've even been known to allow complete strangers to touch it...if they ask nicely. One time a guy in Yelapa, Mexico asked if it could touch it and smiled & whispered, "Suave." (pronounced "swa - veigh" and means soft.)

Imagine my surprise, however, when the other day an older lady on the bus in Zihuatanejo began molesting my twists as if they were her long lost lover. She didn't touch them gingerly or lightly. Oh no! Miss Señora slid her fingers all up and through to my scalp. "¿Es naturel?" she asked as if she finally remembered the hair belonged to someone. "Si," I politely responded with a pasted-on smile. She got her feel on a few moments more and I breathed a sigh of relief. Lo & behold, she couldn't help herself and began the molestation all over again. "¡Bonita!" she turned and said to her friends. "¡Bonita!" she said to me. "Gracias," I graciously responded.

I really didn't know what else to do. I couldn't swat someone's grandma away. I was pleased that she appreciated hair that isn't always embraced. How often would she see it sitting on a busy in tiny Zihua? Still, the nerve! She finally got her fill & stopped for good. I went back to taking pictures and enjoying the sites along the way, but tensed with the thought that she may begin assaulting my tresses once more.

Previous post about my hair: Mi Pelo (My Hair)

Criteria for a $7 USD Room

It was the only private room listed for $100 pesos in the guidebooks I'd researched. The next lowest price was $200 pesos. Always looking for a bargain, I decided to check it out.

When I got to Casa Elvira, the first thing I liked was the location. Safety is the #1 criteria when selecting a place to stay. It was on a main, highly-populated street with plenty of pedestrian traffic. Family-owned, it also helped that the entire family lived there from the grandma on down. They also owned the attached, relatively expensive restaurant situated right on the beach. There was controlled-access to the hotel. Residents were given a key to the outside gate to use after-hours. It was also half a block from the Naval Base, which had plenty of armed guards milling about.

Next on my list is cleanliness. The room was very basic. If you've read my previous posts, you know that I don't require much. Neat & clean, it had a bed, fan, dresser, table, and a huge bathroom two doors down.

My third criteria is a hot shower. The shower temperature was described as "cool and refreshing." After experiencing the heat and humidity in Zihuatanejo, Mexico, I decided to be adventurous and try it. I take cool showers when it's super hot at home anyway, so I was sold. I decided to take the room and paid for two nights in case I wasn't too thrilled with the place.

So far, so good. It's a little noisy in the evening, but I adjust by reading until it quiets down about 1 AM. I sleep in and awake at 7:30 for a brisk morning run along the beach. I think I'll stay a while.

Journaled: 11/21/08

La Cascada (The Waterfall)

I am sitting here by the waterfall in Yelapa, Mexico trying to chronicle the last few days of my trip, but it's proving to be a most difficult task. It's so beautiful and peaceful and...untouched here that I simply want to sit, look around, and marvel.

Reclining with my back against a rock, my puff cushioning the back of my head, I close my eyes and listen to the dual sounds of the water trickling down the waterfall & the water pooling below. I think about the nature CD, noise machine, and electronic rock garden I have at home that are supposed to resemble these very sounds to lull me to sleep during nights of insomnia. How about I just come here to sleep?



While the waterfall is for my pleasure, it's a laundromat for the people of Yelapa. Women set up chairs and baskets of clothing to wash. Later, you'll find the clothes swinging in the breeze on outdoor clotheslines to dry. No washer or dryer needed. The simplicity of life here is as refreshing as the waterfall.