All Be Bach

March 1, 2012 in Uncategorized | Permalink

My eight month stay along the Southern Coast of Oaxaca has all but concluded.  I am returning to Santa Cruz California on Friday March 2nd.  My flight on Aeromar Airlines leaves Puerto at Noon.  I have a three hour layover in Mexico.  I then fly Alaska Air to Los Angeles.  A two hour layover.  Then LA to San Jose.  My plane lands at 11pm.  I plan to be in Santa Cruz for about four months.  The month of June, I will be working in Truckee CA.  I am returning to Puerto Escondido sometime in July 2012, depending on when my sister and family come visit from Israel.  When I go back for my next eight month run, you really might want to consider coming for a healthy stay yourself.   The tacos are insane.

Besos.  Love & Light.  Hugs.  A Dios

We’re Hunting Rabbits

February 24, 2012 in Places | Permalink

I wrote tomorrows date on the chalk board, hopped inside a Nissan four door, and was driven off in search of a particular Country Mexican.  The Indian we were going to see held the title to a particular piece of land that myself and a few others have had our eye on for the past couple of years.  We brought along a translator.  Spanish just wasn’t going to cut it.  It was 8am on Friday, February 24th, 2012.

We stopped for tacos along side the road just outside of Huatulco.  There was a skinned cow in the back of a nearby pick up truck.  Talk about gnarly.  We arrived to the secret estate around noon.  I had been there two times prior, yet this was my first time actually meeting The Jefe.  I counted five teeth in his mouth.  His expertise with the machete was mind blowing.  The coconut water was air temperature.

They sat and spoke.  I just half listened and nodded.  I was picking up some stuff, but like I said, this was country spanish.  Not to be confused with country music.  The meeting lasted about 30 minutes.  We then walked out to the point break.  A pitching right hander that breaks directly in front of a jetty hip of sorts.  In the summer months, this place goes off.  That’s about all I am allowed to tell you.

Rabbi Shlomo

February 20, 2012 in Surf | Permalink

For the past six weeks solid, I’ve been going back to my longboard roots.  It an 8’8” actually.  Thicker stringer.  Loads of rocker.  Heavy glass.  It was shaped with big point break waves in mind.  Main Beach at Zicatela doesn’t quite fit that mold.

When it gets four foot out here, you can count the number of longboarders on your middle finger.  It’s playing with fire.  If you have the strength to manage one, and the skill-set to ride one here at Main Beach, well then Good Luck With That.

But here I am.  Putting in my time.  Increasing my wave count.  Timing gauntlets, managing big equipment without a leash, and getting myself slotted from time to time.  I will say it again.  Getting slotted.  All wide-eyed, and screaming Hell Mary.

I befriended a Rabbi while I was spending some time in The Hamptons.  I told him to come visit me in CA.  He did.  My brother and I took him surfing.  We ate fish tacos.  He kept telling us that ‘Longboards Rule’.  And he was right, they DO rule.

Differential

February 16, 2012 in Random | Permalink

I’m cracking.  I’ve cracked.  Things began getting dicey around the new year.  Mid January brought some hope that it was just a bluesy blip.  By early February, I was regularly playing handball with my own shit.  All hell broke loose by the middle of February.  I’d say that is right about when the straw hit the camels fan.

I am in desperate need of some homogenization.  White on white.  $5 milkshakes.  Hot showers.  Cold rain.  Cameras on 41st Ave.  Shoes & Socks.  Jackie Greene.  Sierra Nevada on tap.  Loyal teammates.  Family & friends.  Cuz everything and everybody here is wayyy too Down to Earth, and I simply can’t take it any longer.

Pit Bull Inn

February 10, 2012 in Dogs, Situations | Permalink

There was a light tap on my heavy duty wooden door. I knew who it was. My fingers were woven, hoping to God that she would say the right thing. I was purposely hiding away, buying some time, doing the proper thing. Earlier in the morning lineup, I had been given the blessing to blow a fuse if I needed to. It was brought to my attention that I was already way up in the plus column by not having blown one the night before when all indicator lights said it was time to Get Nuts.

I remembered her from two years prior. Her voice actually. It’s Marge Simpson gone extra bad. You just want to jam a sock in there.  I couldn’t stand her chirp two years ago, and nothing had changed in the pitch to make me feel any differently this go around. Her voice just rings and rings and rings, and it doesn’t matter what she says, because the ringing just kills the content. And the echo of the ring within the confines of the cement hotel is almost too much to even handle.

I opened the door. For the final time, I told her I was very sorry about last night, and that it was just a perfect sort of storm. I followed that up by saying that I am glad nothing happened, and that I will really keep a closer eye on the little guy. She chimed in with a passive aggressive follow-up threat to her threat from the night before. She wanted to make sure that I had made other arrangements for the Mako Shark. “We can’t stay here unless He goes,” she cackled.

As she was pointing at The Little Big Man, I was pointing at The Rod Iron Gate. And take your sissy fried husband & Gerber baby with you. Now Git.

         

Bad Moon Risin’

February 9, 2012 in Random | Permalink

The full moon remained full for about a week.  Maybe even ten days.  I just threw my hands up.  Nothing I could do.  I was just a moon puppet  Everything I touched short circuited.  Big Time Trouble.  Way Gnarly.  I wasn’t to the point of howling or biting someones throat.  None of that ghost and goblin lore either.  It was elemental and elementary.  A one-two punch.  Sometimes three.  It was bigger than the here and now.  It was all consuming.  The people, places, and things that were appearing out of thin air, and/or being placed within my tender and conscious reach, were just out of this fucking world.

           

Noonan!

February 5, 2012 in Women | Permalink

The very finest piece of ass in this town walked right up to me the other day.  I was like here we go again.  Back up.  About three months ago, this other succulent piece of ass walked right up to me and said, “How’d you like to go fly somewhere together?”  I was like, “Where to Ms. Succulence?”  That was her cue to pitch the skydiving business that she reps down at the beach.  Of course!  Always a catch.  Too good to be true.  Anyway, where was I?  Oh yeah, the finest piece of ass in town.  Not just a fine piece.  The fucking finest.  The filet of the mignon.  So she walks right up to me and says, “Hola Aron, Do you have 200 pesos I can borrow?”  I was like Holy Shit, the finest piece of ass is asking me a question!  I reached into my bathing suit and pulled out a wet 200.  She took it and smiled.  I thought for sure that meant that she was testing me to see how loose I was with my dinero.  Testing to see if I had the money to provide for her and her family the rest of our lives.  And of course our family too.  She must not know that I am The Pressure Washing Kingpin of Santa Cruz, CA.  Sure..no problemo…take the money…i’ve got oodles of it.  FACT:  If she had asked 100 acquaintances in town for 200 pesos, nobody in their right(or wrong) mind would have coughed it up.  No wonder I haven’t seen her fine piece of ass lately.  

Candy and Ronnie

February 3, 2012 in Random | Permalink

According to the time on the microwave, for the third straight night in a row now, I was awakened at 2:46 am, unable to fall back asleep.  Since you’re probably not wondering what I did with that newly found QT, I’m not all that inclined to want to tell you.  I will say a few things about the parallels: For starters, on the third morning, when the clock read 2:46 am, i came to find out later that it wasn’t really 2:46 afterall.  The clock read 2:46 because I had made microwave popcorn the night prior and had punched in five minutes, knowing in advance that it takes two minutes 15 seconds mas o menos to properly make this particular brand.  So apparently I decided it was done after two minutes fourteen seconds.  Capice?  Pretty gnarly co inky dink I know.  Now whether or not that counts in your book as three-in-a row, you still can’t take anything away from the first two identical 2:46 a.m. wake-ups.  I’m still blown to bits by it all.  The only thing I could put my finger on was the full moon was once again in full affect.  And when I say put my finger on it, I really mean put my finger on it.  Like break off a piece of Swiss cheese coming in my room putting my finger on it.  Te lo Juro!   I had a Major Tom moment.  Planet earth WAS blue and there wasn’t anything I could do except put the final polish on my version of Bennie and The Jets.  And so that is what I did.

    

Monkey Business

January 28, 2012 in People | Permalink

I appeared at Papa Chango’s treehouse, unannounced as always.  Chango was busy making wood models.  It had only taken him 59 odd years, including 40 years of gucci construction to realize that blueprints are just a load of bullocks.  He says they are absolutely impossible for the client to wrap their mind around.  Ditto that my brother.  

Sure the blue print with all the exotic fractions and measurements everywhere show there is a door here, which opens to a deck there.  And yes the fridge sits here and the bidet goes there.  Oh, and if we go to page 9, there is a sideways back view of the Master Bedroom. So long as you can imagine it from a bird’s eye. Eeesh.

So PC is making models.  Clearly putting the word model back in Model Home.  His models are all made of scrap wood and glue only.  His current project is a two story, 1200 s/f guest home.  For your viewing pleasure, the roof lifts off.  So does the second story.  Everything is scaled exactly to size.  So simple, a monkey can understand it.

          

Nothin’ Up My Sleeve or And The Password Is??

January 25, 2012 in Situations | Permalink

I had myself a situation.  My 180 day visa had expired, and I was popped riding a borrowed scooter going the wrong way on a one way.  I wasn’t carrying a license or my passport.  Unfortunately the only bill in my bathing suit was a 500 Peso Large.  Can’t be parting with that juicy nug.

Did he have a gun?  No I said.  Did he have car nearby?  No.  And you were on a scooter?  Yes I said.  Did you make eye contact with him?  I did.  BIG MISTAKE.  So he’s on foot, and you stopped?  Yep.  How much did he get?  Not a peso I said.  Nicely done..OK here’s what you do.

So I grew a mustache.  A big ol thick Honkin’ one.  Like Goose Gossage.  Then I went and bought me one of them big ol brimmed whicker hats with the drawstring.  I stopped walking barefoot.  I changed out my sunglasses.  I wore a shirt wherever I went.  A bonified OG.  Slalom.

Darling Nikki

January 19, 2012 in People, Random | Permalink

I know a girl named Nikki

I guess you can say she is a Jehovahs Witness

I met her in my hotel lobby

Contemplating Room #3

I said how’d you like to spend two months here

And she could not resist, even after Rocky snatched her Iphone and ran away with it

        

Rook(ie) Maneuver

January 15, 2012 in Situations | Permalink

He appeared right at noon.  I was in the process of leaving the hotel with two people I used to call friends.  One turned out to be Anti Semitic.  The other uses the word ‘hate’ in every other sentence or two.  So one hates Jews, and the other hates everything.   I guess I foresaw the future fallout, and invited KO up to the roof for a game of chess.

It was windy.  His double weighted plastic pieces and heavy duty leather roll up board were just the call.  His set came with two Queens for each color. Sick!  And check it, Homie doesn’t touch a piece he isn’t prepared to move, but didn’t care how I went about my game.  Whoa Guy!  I asked if he plays with The En Passant.  STOOOPID

I knew right away this guy was a better player.  The way he sat.  The way he moved.  He took quite a bit of time to make each move, and again, never touched a piece until he was ready to move it.  Not me, no way.  I like to twirl my Bishop, rest my Knight, and spot check my Queen.  Run decoy with my right hand while I move pieces with my left.

None of it was working.  He wasn’t buying into my mumblings or shenanigans.  He was systematically cutting me down.  Until Poof. Roughly two hours in, I noticed an opening that I was sure I could get at if I made the procedural moves it would take to get there.  Along the way, he’d also have to fall prey to some heavily weighted, baited lures.

I was down to one Rook and six Pawns.  He had one Rook, a Bishop, his Knight, and three Pawns.  It was now or never.  The next 15 min would see me take two of his Pawns with a series of checks.  I was also able to rest one of my Pawns in Row 7 and protect it with a Pawn in Row 6.  It wouldn’t be long now until I received another Grand Old Lady.

And then it happened.  A complete nightmare.  My first and only real mistake.  It was a gross error.  Foolishly, I had lined up my King and my Rook so that he could move his Bishop in between the two and call check.  Before he moved, he asked if I wanted to take the move back.  I wanted to say Yes so badly, but I said No.  My game was done.

Three hours of anguish, only to end like this.  My head was spinning.  I needed an ice bath.  I shook KO’s hand.  I smelled like a dead animal on the side of the road.  I went away to my room and didn’t reappear for two days.  It’s just a stupid game of chess I kept muttering to myself.  My life will never be the same.  Ever.  It just won’t.  Ever..

Circus Act

January 10, 2012 in Situations | Permalink

The internet went down during a period of time when the hotel was full of guests that spend a good chunk of their pathetic day and night online.  Day Traders dba Face Bookers.  Regardless, it wasn’t good.  The owner of the hotel was out of town with his family, and I couldn’t take another knock on my door.  This was a job for Super Gringo.

The modem was almost too hot to touch.  That’s never good.  I hopped a collectivo and went looking for Armando.  You can’t actually get to Armando anymore, rather his secretary’s secretary.  Fuck.  She informed me that she has no idea what I might be talking about, and that Armando is in Mazunte and will return manana.  Double Fuck.

I went down to Tel Mex and stood in line with all the other Indians.  When I got to the front, I tried to explain my sit chee eh shin, but it was hopeless.  Some random European informed me that I needed to make a phone call from the modem itself to reach technical support.  Good Gawd!  I asked him if he knew where I could buy a cheap phone.

Two hours later I arrived back at the hotel.  All eyeballs were on me.  If they only knew what I was trying to pull off was nothing short of a true miracle, they would have offered up their support.  I gave the entire hotel the Hang Tight.  I then plugged our new phone into the thingie.  I dialed some 16 digit number and hit the # key.  Hola.

I asked for the English Dept because there was no way I was going to troubleshoot anything en Espanol.  Ordering breakfast is one thing.  Reconfiguring a modem in the heat is another.  a soft spoken female got on the line.  I could make out every other word she said.  She me my was and bring old to Telmex receive.  Took a taxi this go around.

I brought the old modem, the current bill, and my passport back down to the office.  Thirty minutes later I was walking out of there with a brand new Infintium modem.  It came in a box full of instructions.  I went back to the hotel.  I gave the entire hotel the Hang Tight.  I reconfigured the set up and it worked.  I took a cold shower.  The sun set.

For the record: There was no possible way whatsoever that I could have pulled this off 6 months ago, or 4 months ago, or even last month.  No chance.  Way too many variables.  Today however, I made Puerto History.  I can’t explain it.  For those of you out there that know what I am talking about, you know exactly what I am talking about.

      

TKO

January 5, 2012 in People | Permalink

Word was out.  The chess legend in Puerto for the past 20 years or so was finally being beaten by a young fellow named KO.  True Stories.  KO was regularly beating Tron, yet not without giving it everything he had.  It was no secret that Tron was well underway with the derailing affects of Alzheimer’s, but trust me, he still managed to play a very professional game of chess.  I had heard through the mezcal vine that Tron used to play many of Puerto’s so called ‘best’ players without using his Queen.  He would set it up, but never move it.  How fucking cool is that? 

I saw Tron & KO doing battle in a cafe once.  I knew who they were.  They didn’t know me.  The reason I knew of them is because I’m good that way.  So there I was, thumbing through my pocket dictionary, minding somebody else’s business.  The game looked very serious.  I began wondering if I had it in me to play at their level.  Had I known that I would be given that very golden opportunity in less than 10 days from what is now then, I don’t know what I would have done differently.  Second guess my ability more likely than not.  I made like a banana.

12-25-11

December 25, 2011 in Uncategorized | No comments

 

Tacos

December 24, 2011 in Random | Permalink

On Thanksgiving Day, I watched football and ate tacos.  I can’t begin to tell you how important tacos are down here.  You can find them being made on and around every corner here in Puerto Escondido.  Real Food.  Authentic & Abundant.  I am very Thankful that I am being shown the Taco ropes.  I got taken to an underground spot in The Lazaro last week.  Locals Only.  No menu.  No silverware.  Open when it’s open.  It really isn’t even a restaurant OR a spot, rather somebodies backyard.  Flat out knock your dick in the dirt delicious, and a fraction of the cost of say Taco Hell.  Which reminds me of a True Story.  On December 24th, 2010, at 6:30pm, as most normal folk were Caroling About w/ Jack Frost, I sat in my van and ate Jack in the Box tacos on Ocean Avenue for dinner.  You know the ones.  Does it get any more disgusting?  To offset that dog food, and re-establish my street cred., tonight I am having Xmas Eve Dinner at Mayra’s.  You know the one.  Taco Royalty in Puerto Escondido.  Buen Provecho!

The Mexican Pipeline

December 23, 2011 in Surf | No comments

Here’s one for all my surfer friends.  Especially the over-the-hill pseudo athletic ones that watch all the videos, read all the magazines, and surf Pleasure Point semi-irregularly when it’s two foot:

There are waves at Zicatela beach everyday.  Every single day.  When it’s considered a lake, there are waves.  When infants and toddlers can frolic near the shoreline with Papa, there are waves.  When the Norwegians and Germans are paddling around on the back third of their rented nine foot soft tops, there are waves.  It’s a wave pool.  Every single day.

It’s winter here in Puerto Escondido.    As places like Northern CA and Oregon begin seeing their most powerful surf for the year, Puerto Escondido sees their most playful surf.  Some will say the lip softens up quite a bit down here during the winter months.  I am almost ready to agree with that.  Unfortunately I have a fat lip disproving that theory.

No matter what time of year it is here, there are piping water tubes up and down this amazing beach.  Picture perfect almond shaped barrels.  Big and small.  Sometimes there are surfers in those barrels, but most of the time there are not.  Thousands and thousands of water barrels.  Detonating onto the shallow sandy Pacific Ocean floor like a guillotine.

Today it was six foot.  I would say the faces of the set waves were about 20 feet tall.  I watched from the sand.  Ten guys out.  All the action was happening within 150 yards of the shoreline.  Full Magilla Gorilla.  Lights out powerful.  And my back hurt.  And the internet was down.  And I was hungry.  No wait…thirsty.  And it was closed out.  And I was.  And it was.

  

30 ft. above sea level, Calle Bajada Las Brisas, Far Bar @ Zicatela, 12/24/11, 9am

Passive Aggressive Prick

December 18, 2011 in People, Situations | Permalink

Ok, so German guy.  Seemed nice enough.  Gave me a measly 100 peso deposit, we shook hands, and he promised to appear the next day at 11am.  When he showed up at 10:40am, I had the early stages of suspiciousness.  Nobody shows up early for anything around here.  You’re lucky if they show up at all.  So he was early and it was noted.

He played the Passive-Aggressive card.  He came to my penthouse 3x his first night.  First to ask the WiFi password.  Next to ask if I had a wine bottle opener.  Finally to ask(tell) me if(that) there was(wasn’t) hot water.  He told me I should consider a stronger password.  No I don’t and You don’t Need It were my answers to visits #2 and #3.

He talked way too much.  Probably why he has an EX girlfriend.  I don’t know how she could have been with him for five minutes, let alone five years.  He is a professor in Berlin, or maybe he’s not.  I have no idea.  He started in on canines, futbol and Lance Armstrong.  I looked at my my watch and noticed it was time for him to shut the fuck up!

Jackass was in the process of getting my goat.  Big Jim sat me down and explained to me the two most important things about how to handle Passive-Aggressive behavior in our hotel.  First, never ever show anybody where you tie up your goat.  And second, understand that all guests will leave your life way sooner than later.  “Trust me,” he said.

Check this one out.  He asked for the key to the utility closet.  I asked why.  He said he wanted to clean his room.  I opened the closet.  He found me 30 minutes later to tell me that his room is now cleaned the right way, and that I should educate our maid on how to properly do it.  He wanted to know if I wanted to see what he cleaned.  I flinched.

I totally went Jekyl and Hyde on his ass.  I’m good at it too.  I don’t love doing it, but I don’t hate it either.  Sorta takes some talent and wit to create lingering and befuddling impressions like I can.  He couldn’t draw on any of his world experience to battle my new and APProved persona.  He began to tip toe around me.  Ho Ho Ho dickhead!

You missed a spot

December 16, 2011 in People | Permalink

I made the Big Man feel welcome.  He was just two days removed from competing in a Mr. Universe qualifying comp. in Germany, and one of those days was a full day of travel to get here.  I was sure he was wacked.  Big Jim brought him coconuts.

He’s a 40 y/o cop from Paris.  Different.  Bodybuilders can get that way at his level.  He tries to fit in here, but it’s impossible.  He boogies.  If I had anything in common with the dude, I am sure I would find him to be Universally different than me.

He likes to tan himself in a tiny thong in the mornings and evenings down at the beach.  I saw him sunning with a pretty Mexican once.  She was topless.  He called me over to them.  The ‘booby’ traps I fall into around here never end.  Solid B cup.

He appeared at my penthouse suite at about 3pm this past Tuesday.  He had a sunscreen bottle in each of his hands.  “Oh don’t fucking tell me!!”  Good Gawd!  Yep, that’s what Biggie wanted.  HOLY CRAP!!  And he wanted lots of it put on too.

Well, did you really do it?  I personally would have told the Hulk to Beat It!  Tell me you didn’t lather the Big Boy up with lotion.   Oh Dude!  That’s Classic!!  You couldn’t pay me a million bucks to do what you just did.  Grow a sack amigo!!

          

Como?

December 14, 2011 in People | Permalink

He yelled my name twice from the ground floor.  Maybe even a sharp whistle.  I forget which.  It’s how it’s done around here.  I stopped fighting it.  I get it.  Mexican Doorbell.

He was sending an older couple from Italy up to see me.  Apparently they wanted to stay for a month.  This was going to be interesting.  Hopefully they spoke PigLatin.

He spoke only Italian.  She knew a bit of Spanish.  I love New York Pizza.  He wouldn’t know a bagel if it hit him across the head.  She wasn’t buying into my presentation.

The young French surfers showed up 45 min. later.  In a combo language zey vondered es de coot tenian la cuard perfecto y dinero no pro-lame.  Zees gut?  Seguro en Merci.

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