The Hidden Port

Off to Puerto Escondido, a small town on the pacific coast an hour's flight away. The flight was beautiful, past the two 5,000m+ volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl, their snow-covered summits peaking up through the clouds, then 250 miles of rugged hills, before descending to the coast, almost skimming the ocean before landing on PE's tiny airstrip.

The town's name means Hidden Port and it is. Or rather, it's still a sleepy beach resort which hasn't (yet) turned into the ghastly Acapulco, 100 miles up the coast. Our hotel is on a quiet, unmade road just off the Zicatella Beach. A couple of blocks away is a hangout for young beach bums, a couple of wizened Vietnam Vets and some soi dogs. It's hot, dusty and reminds us of Thailand - so we eat Thai and pinch ourselves that this isn't Ko Samui.

2014

So, another year goes by, in which I:
- moved from China to Mexico
- commenced work on another Year of Culture
- started learning Spanish
- stopped and then re-started writing this blog
- released a CD of music by Andrew Cox
- became convinced that 1984 was the last great year of pop
- enjoyed a moderately entertaining World Cup
- Liz passed two Chinese exams
- the girls moved schools
- spent Christmas with a Japanese-Jewish family
Life continues to surprise...

The Stolen Generation

En famille, we watched Rabbit Proof Fence this evening. A fine film, set in the 1930s, about three half caste Aboriginal children taken from their home in a remote part of Western Australia to a 'school' of sorts which, echoing national policy, would 're-educate and civilize' them. They escaped - two sisters aged 14 & 8 and their cousin, 10 - and walked 1200 miles home, through desert and scrub, eluding both the police and an experienced tracker. It's based on a true story and right at the end of the film we see the real two sisters in old age, wearing incongruous floral dresses. The elder sister's daughter wrote the book that the film was based on. What's more, the same thing happened to her!  Amazing performances from the three children, plus (fairly unnoticeable) music from Peter Gabriel.  

Lost in Papua

Goodbye to our American-Japanese friends, off to catch a plane to Miami. It's been great seeing them.

Stand by for a tenuous link… I've been reading Lost in Shangri-la by Michael Zuckoff, an account of a plane crash & rescue operation in what was, not eastern Tibet as one might think, but Dutch New Guinea in May 1945 at the tail end of the Pacific War. Of the 24 U.S. army personnel on board, only three survived, finding themselves in the middle of a remote, unexplored* valley inhabited by 'stone-age' tribes who constantly fought each other and often resorted to cannibalism, plus there was the added spice of a few hiding Japanese soldiers. Possibly.

Luckily, a rescue plane spotted them and two medics were parachuted in to tend to their injuries. But how to get them out? The jungle was too impenetrable to walk through, the air to thin for a helicopter and nowhere long enough to land a conventional plane. So what they did was to land a glider, which doesn't need much of a runway, which was then snatched back up by a regular plane with a hook, flying very low. They both then flew back to the airbase, one towing the other, before landing separately. Amazing.

Incidentally, much to the disappointment of the world's press, the 'natives' were friendly and there were no Japanese.

[* Actually, unbeknownst to all concerned, it had been explored, by Richard Archibold in 1938]

Metro

Into the Centro Historico with our friends, running the gauntlet of the metro. All forms of life pass through its carriages: blind singers, little boys selling cigarettes; women selling CDs with speakers sewn into their backpacks, others purveying sweets…

Back in Time

Finally went to Mexico's most visited museum today, the Museo Nacional de Antropologia. Although founded in the 19th century, it wasn't until 1964 that a new, fit-for-purpose building was constructed on the edge of the Bosque de Chapultepec, just a mile or so from our home. 
Its 23 galleries are laid out in a giant U with a massive courtyard in the middle (with a huge 'umbrella'-like structure supported by a single pillar) and gardens around the outside. Basically it's split into two: the ground floor deals with Archaeology, tracing the various pre-Colombian civilisations that existed in what is now called Mexico; and the second floor focuses on Ethnography, documenting the native American population since the Spanish conquest. 
It's very impressive and way too much to take in in one go. (Liz has been three times already, each time with a guide - a good way to do it). I like the way it occasionally weaves the gardens into the story. At the end of the Mayan hall, for example, you walk out into what looks like a lost city of stone structures and jungle. 
Aside from getting told off for jumping through the waterfall surrounding the central pillar, the girls did pretty well.

Bonfire of the Vanities, Mexican Style

Pancakes & presents, lunch & a stroll - all good Christmas stuff. And then off to the airport to pick up Ray, Motoko & Remi. Although I'd been driven there in taxis before, this was the first time I'd driven myself. The first part was fine, travelling along the Circuito Interior, but for some reason I missed the turning to Terminal 1. Retracing my steps I missed it again and ended up miles away and going round the houses. It was my own Bonfire of the Vanities moment: lost in a strange part of town with darkness drawing in and our friends' flight already arrived. Finally I made it, picked them up and set off for home… and I got part of that wrong too. A humbling experience.