Lost In Translation

Taking a turn off the busy gray brick street into the warehouse like building didn't allow us to escape the chaos. As we sniffed around like hounds for the best food, people tried to herd us like cattle into their little food booths. 

Waving their menus or shouting out, a person would yell, "tamales!"

From behind we would hear, "Mole! Quesadillas! Chile Rellenos!"

Karen sitting outside on the sidewalk

Oaxaca color - blues and yellows

Cruising 

We (Chet, Karen, and I) are now in Oaxaca city known for it's large open markets, indigenous cultures, Mezcal tequila, and it's cuisine such as molé, grasshoppers, and chocolate. As we walked through their food market that is an acre in size, we had a hard time deciding where to go. Allowing our noses to guide us, we decided to go to what looked like the busiest place. 

Stepping into the adjacent warehouse, a fire alarm would have had a heart attack because the air was so heavy with smoke. Walking down the isle, on either side were barbecues and slabs of different meats with mesquite coals glowing dark red. As people fanned them, the smoky heat blew into me like a Santa Ana wind.

The smoky warehouse with all of the meats and barbecues

Over the busy food court Chet yelled, "let's eat here!"

"Sounds, good man! How does it work though?!"

"I don't know! I guess we will find out!"

Walking over to a booth area with veggies we soon figured out how it worked. A lady explained in Spanish and handed us a large wicker plate with veggies and pointed over towards the barbecue stations.

"Did either of you get that?"

"Nah, but I think we take the veggies over to one of the barbecue places."

Dancing through the crowd, we handed one of the barbecue booths our plate of veggies. The man told us something in Spanish. We got the gist that he wanted us to point toward some of the raw meats. As he explained what each cut and seasoning was, we just pointed blindly and hoped for the best. The man threw the slabs of meat onto the grill then directed us to the seating area. 

Dancing back through the crowd, Chet exclaimed, "I have no idea what we just ordered. I just pointed."

Getting directed into a booth like a plane by an air traffic controller, we all sat on one side of the booth seat. Soon three other Mexican fellows got directed to the seat opposite us. Sitting like a family would at a diner, all six of us sipped our Mexican Cokes and smiled knowing that we couldn't have a conversation. 

Sucking my Coke dry, our wicker plate showed back up with our veggies, a stack of tortillas, and a mound of meat. 

"Guys we ordered a lot of food."

"We should of ordered for two, or for one even."

"I think that's a kilo and a half of meat."

As we struggled to finish our mound of food, one of the Mexican fellows across from us said, "la comida es bueno, no?" (The food is good, no?)

I looked up from my taco, smiled and said, "El comida de Mexico es el mejor!" (Mexican food is the best!)

He chuckled and kept eating his food. Trying to make room in our stomachs, we ate our last bit of food. Getting up from the booths, one of the ladies ran over to us worried that we weren't going to pay. Handing her some money, we headed out of the smoky warehouse back onto the busy street. 

"Dude, that was bomb."

"I know."

Some more Oaxaca color and street life:

Getting Out Alive

With a gentle awakening, "hey man, how are you feeling?"

"Better," I said.

"Do you think you can make it to the airport?"

"Yeah... I think so."

"Alright go hop in the shower, you have thirty minutes to pack."

It was roughly 5:45am that Tuesday morning when I hopped in the shower. Pulling off my clothes that smelt strongly of sweat infused with garlic, I felt like Hercules compared to the day before.

During the previous night I came down with some sort of sickness. Possibly a bad case of Montezuma's Revenge or even Salmonella. Perfect timing for my flight leaving the next morning. I laid in bed that day too sick to stand. Too weak to talk. It was the sickest I'd ever been in my life.

I wasn't the only one however. The entire town seemed to be getting sick at varying degrees. Many of the surfers in the Mexi Log Fest were getting sick too; some even had to go home early. So when I was well enough to shower that morning I felt like I was somehow escaping the zombie apocalypse.

Still feeling weak, I carried my bags down the dimly lit street to the bus station at the edge of town. Setting my backpack in the dirt, I paid the thirty-five pesos to take the bus to Puerto Vallarta then shuffled into my seat. Looking around the interior of the bus, the faded teal paint was slightly pealing off. At the front of the bus was a stencil of Jesus' face and two stars.

The diesel Mercedes engine lurched to a start. The bus rocked gently between shifting gears. Noticing speed bumps ahead in the dim halogen headlights and trying to process the current speed of the bus, I concluded that we weren't slowing down. Hitting the speed bump the bus jumped and the shocks squeaked. The bus was getting air. No one seemed to be phased and we continued to hit speed bumps in the same manner. Leaning back in my seat, I looked out the window and watched the sunrise as I made my way to Puerto Vallarta thankful that I was feeling good again.

Sayulita Mexico and the Mexi Log Fest

Walking in the street as if it were a sidewalk, we weave around the cars, trucks, motorcycles, and quads as they chatter along the cobblestone road. Colorful buildings in different shades of bright colors, masked in a thin layer of dust, creates what probably used to be a small fishing village into a small town that has broadened it's horizons to tourism.

Mid day surf excursion

Mornings with a view

I've come to Sayulita Mexico for several reasons. One is that one of my cousin's got married here, I'm also meeting my friends Chet and Karen (my friends I will be traveling with now) here who came for a wedding, and my other cousin Robin who has been living here for the past four years. I've been to Sayulita Mexico a couple times before, but have little memories of it since I was so young. Robin said that it probably has changed so much that I wouldn't recognize much of it anyways.

My cousin Robin who was excited upon my arrival wanted to go camping at a surf spot down south after our cousin's wedding. However, we decided to stay because the first Mexi Log Surf Contest, along with a film festival and concert headlined by the Dirty Heads was happening. The brainchild of a local surfer decided that it would be awesome to have a contest that hosted some of the best longboarders from around the world. 

Prior to the contest, the water was tense with the competitors practicing for the upcoming contest. It's extremely rare to have a a lineup of thirty talented surfers trying to get into position for the same wave. 

While there was a competitive vibe in the air, it was awesome, humbling, and inspiring to see some of the best surfers in the world compete. Not to mention Robin also competed and surfed with the style and grace that many surfers desire to have. She surfed extremely well but in her first heat got paired with some of the best surfers including world champion Lindsey Steinriede. Even though she didn't advance too far ahead we enjoyed relaxing and watching the contest over the next three days. 

Over the sound of the the announcers from the judges stand, it was awesome making new friends and watching the longboarders slide and dance across the water. Not to mention Chet and Karen are here! 

To get an idea of what longboarding is about, here is a great video of Alex Knost surfing.

Lines from a Poem - Alex Knost

And So It Begins

I guess I should start off with a little more about myself. My name is Wyatt Dooley and I was lucky enough to grow up in a family that lives on the coast of California. I was even more lucky to have grown up in a family that surfs. To tell you the truth I didn't like it when I was really young - I never had a wetsuit that fit me right and with the cold water of Northern California not wearing a wetsuit wasn't an option.  I had other ideas anyways. I wanted to fish and snowboard instead. However, by the time I was eight, things rapidly changed and I was out in the water surfing and it became the only thing I ever wanted to do.

Ever since I could remember, the outdoors was the place I wanted to be. It wasn't just surfing that I enjoyed but I wanted to camp, backpack, hike, kayak - anything to get me outside. My parents, family, and friends helped fuel this. We went for camping trips in the redwoods, very hot and dry camping trips in Baja, and backpacking trips to amazing high mountain lakes.

These trips only made me want to travel more and it was around eighth grade I told myself I was traveling after college. After graduating in 2014 from UCSB, I kept hold of my goal and here I go! Lets see how long I end up traveling for.

High mountain lake in Northern California. photo: Karen Stuff

Cold mornings at higher altitudes. photo: Karen Stuff

Chet and Karen, my two friends who I will meet up with in Mexico.

Yeah... I had classes on the beach.
photo: Patrick Fitzpatrick

UCSB graduation in front of Storke Tower.
photo: Bob Miyasaki

Missing UCSB and all of my friends.
photo: Lauren Perkins

While I don't have a lot of experience in creative writing (lots of essays and scientific writing), I will try my best to make it entertaining to read. Also just to let you know, I'm not sure how detailed my posts will be since I will be writing them from an Iphone. While I'll have the convenience of a laptop for now, I won't for much longer. Some posts may only be photos or just a small blurb of what has been happening. Hopefully I can make them longer somehow.

Anyways after graduating, I was working for Fish and Wildlife, and between work I was packing. I will be heading to Kauai for a few months and then meeting some friends in Mexico and head into Panama. For the trip I ended up buying an internal frame backpack that will fit in the overhead compartment of a plane. Lets say making everything fit in one pack for seven months isn't easy. I found myself constantly packing and repacking. In the end you end up taking what's actually important with you. You ask yourself questions like is it more important to have a couple of extra shirts or a couple of extra pairs of underwear? Should I leave the sleeping pad and hope that I can hang my hammock everywhere I need to? Luckily I will be in primarily tropical areas, we will see what happens next year when I will be in multiple climates.

All of my belongings traveling with me.

Bummed I can't take my guitar too :(

Not only do you ask yourself questions such as the ones above, but you question yourself with how far you can push the TSA at the airport and what are you willing to leave behind if you can't take it. I haven't yet figured that out yet but I'll let you know when I get there. Some of the questionable things I'm taking are a camping stove, fuel bottle and rope. No worries I checked TSA regulations and it's fine to carry them on. However, the TSA website doesn't always uphold to their rules from what people say. I'm really hoping I don't have to leave anything behind because I really do need everything I have packed.

Also while packing I found getting vaccinations are bit of an experience in itself. I had to go to the doctor to get prescribed the vaccine mefloquine for malaria and typhoid fever. It was also recommended that I get a yellow fever vaccination. I'm glad I got a second opinion though and didn't end up getting in (thanks Ann for the help). Apparently from reading up on it, it one of the gnarliest vaccinations that you can get. Some of the more serious side effects are nerve problems, coma, and organ failure. It's the highest risk vaccine out there supposedly. But thankfully it's more important for parts of Asia and Africa, not Central America. Felt like I dodged that one.

After going to pick up the prescription, there were plenty of curious people asking me what I was there for. It seemed to calm the tenseness of the pharmacy. When I first walked in, the pharmacists and assistants were madly running around and packing drugs while customers were frustrated and yelling at them. I could only compare it to the DMV.

One man with heavy stubble, faded Levis and an old blue flannel was plenty curious and talkative. The air around him was heavy with the smell of cigarettes and pot. He couldn't help but tell everyone around him he was getting the flu shot and was terrified of needles. He kept saying things like "they are here to put a f!*king lawn dart in me, I should have smoked an entire blunt before I came in here!" Needless to say he was stoked I was going to get "harpooned" with him. I think that calmed him a little bit. When asking me what I was getting lawn darted for, I told him I was traveling to Central America. With his nervous voice he told me I was nuts with all of the cartels down there. Told me I could lose my head. With that he gave me a thumbs up and headed out of the pharmacy.

Well that's all I have to update you on. Heading out tomorrow morning for SF.