Hey Zihuatanejo… we need to talk
Zihuatanejo – pronounced zee-wah-tah-nay-ho
Pronounced with great difficulty.
Pronounced wrongly more often than not.
A pronounced elderly American community who pronounce things in an annoying way.
Ah Zihua, our time together has been brief and thus, my parting words to you will also be brief.
I’ve always been of the opinion that the single most important asset of a beach is palm trees lining the shore. I am delighted to see that your beaches tick this box. They tick this box in spades. After this I rate location as the next most important factor. Secluded beaches have their place, sure, but for me proximity is the key. I like the ocean to be close to where I sleep so that the waves can rock me to sleep at night, and I like to be able to wander off the beach to get a bite to eat and a beer. Tick, tick, tick.
And then maybe another beer.
Unfortunately it appears that I’ve overlooked a pretty important feature, or rather, I’ve taken it for granted over the years.
The most important asset of a beach is—swimability.
I’m an Australian, Zihua, so I’m not talking about dangerous rip tides, strong currents or big waves. I’m talking about pollution.
I seem to be harping on about toilets and drainage and toilet paper nonflushability and stuff an awful lot since I arrived in Mexico but I can’t let this one slide. Having such a beautiful, palm tree clad beach so close at hand and not be able to swim in it is like Chinese water torture… but in Mexico… so I guess, it’s like Mexican water torture.
Yeah. That’s pretty clever actually. I’m pretty happy with that. But really I’d rather not have to come up with witty wordplay to describe the appalling state of your water quality though.
Despite this, I can happily report that you are a lovely place. I enjoyed our time together immensely and I would be lying if I said that I was happy to be leaving. I have no schedule to keep, plane to catch or deadline to meet, but it isn’t fair to either of us to waste time getting attached when I know that we aren’t right for each other.
You provided me with some memorable… um.. memories? and the thought of them will surely remedy frowns if they ever chose to appear in my future. You gave me my first lobster since I left Melbourne. I called him Pinchy! And then I ate him. He was delicious.
My spanish, or lack thereof, did manage to get me into some sticky/stinky situations again.
I tried to ask one of your lovely locals if I could take a picture of him and the giant fish that he had caught. I’m not sure exactly where I went wrong but this was the result:
My hands still kinda smell like fish. I was a long way from my hotel. Or a tap. Or soap. Or perhaps sanity. I’m still not sure how to say “no thank you, I do not want to hold your giant fish” in spanish. Perhaps this is something I should look into. Cool photo though. Good memory.
I suggest that you clean yourself up a little bit (and I will clean my hands up a little bit too). You are genuinely beautiful and you are capable of making a lot of people very happy but it is important that you look after yourself as well. I really hope that you take my words to heart and work towards getting clean. You deserve happiness just as much as anyone or anywhere else.
I leave you tonight under the veil of darkness as I embark on a 12 hour bus ride to Puerto Escondido. I will go through Acapulco on my way but the memory of our time together will most likely prevent me from getting involved with her.
By the time you read this I’ll probably be gone.
Look after your self Zihuta.. Zihuatajeno…. DAMMIT!
Look after yourself Zihuatanejo.