Forgetting Acapulco
Part of our rationale for stopping in Zihuatanejo was to avoid Acapulco, a decision quickly validated by visiting the place. The path to Acapulco was punctuated by frequent roadkill, including what had to be a giant rat, and for reasons unknown doubled road signs. I don’t just mean we saw the same sign twice, I mean every sign from the speed limit to the directions had an identical, but newer, version erected directly in front of it. Either they made a slight clerical error in their sign ordering form, or the contract to put up a new set of signs didn’t include taking the old ones down!
Anyhow, the path into Acapulco was understandably mindbogglingly beautiful. The road wound through mountains butted up against the coast, overbuilt with massive mansions and resorts, overlooking fantastic sand beaches. We drove aimlessly through the city in search of some photo ops (though I unfortnately don’t currently have my camera and cord with me), until finally being directed to the tourist hot spot. I only wish I had my pictures handy… Though beautiful, the Acapulco beach was miles of fully adulterated beach. The waves were more people than ocean. Surrounding the coast were massive, sky-scraping resorts, and ringing the water was an impenetrable infinite expanse of blue plastic cabanas with white resin chairs. It was just possible to make out the natural beauty that once put this city on the map before choking on the overpopulated expanse that now made it up.
We only stuck around long enough to take some photos, then began the arduous process of finding our way out of town. Stuck following signs for Mexico City, the road we were on seemed to miraculously add a sign for the Mexican highway we wanted.
It also added more topes (speed bumps). Coming down a particularly impressive mountain in Acapulco, a tope caught us by surprise, causing my dad, who was leading, to swerve to the right past the car in front of him which was coming to a full stop to avoid bottoming out on the tope. I, to the right, was also hauling on my brakes, and had to swerve into the next lane, luckily narrowly avoiding both the car behind us in that lane and my dad. Acapulco wasn’t done with us yet though. As our road out of town finally became quiet and empty, and strangely wide, I motioned my dad to take the lead, and he started accelerating past me. We’d just passed a sign indicating the speed limit to be 80km/hr, or about 50mi/hr, when my dad, still accelerating, hit a speed mountain. He sailed completely airborne in front of me. His body went shooting up from the seat, the entire bike at an upward angle that a Knievel would envy. Somehow, he managed to land in a hail of dust and continue. Hauling on my brakes, I went careening over the giant tope with only my front wheel leaving the ground. Whew.
We continued on to the town of San Marcos, where we found a very cheap, very impressive old hotel. Obviously old and pretty well maintained, it was built around a courtyard with a beautiful pool. High ceilings and doors hung on offset pivots instead of hinges. We met a group of Americans – a brother and sister, and the brother’s girlfriend – traveling the coast of Oaxaca state on vacation with which we shared some crazy coincidences: the siblings were from eastern Michigan and had went to U-Michigan, and the girlfriend and brother now both lived in San Francisco. At night, on my way out to grab some beer, I walked past the giant pile of trash next to our hotel, and was starteled to find that I’d startled a handful of pigs that had been routing in the trash. Had some pretty good tongue tacos and a good night’s sleep, where I can only hope I dreamt of never again seeing a beach as overcrowded as the one I saw that afternoon…