Pizza Escondido

I’ve made my way to Puerto Escondido, home of Playa Zicatela and the “Mexican Pipeline”, one of the world’s best surfing breaks. Unfortunately this means swimming is not an option due to the huge waves and treacherous currents. The beach is also thronged with surfer dudes and posers.
Puerto Escondido was made famous in Italy by a film of the same name, but an unfortunate consequence now sees the town home to more than its fair share of Italians, which probably explains the overabundance of posers on the beach.
Italians were affectionately monikered “Pizzafickers” by David, my ex-housemate who since absconded to Hamburg. Not very politically correct, David also reserved ire for the Dutch, or Käsekopfe (Cheeseheads) as he called them. But he really hated the Italians. They certainly are a different breed.
I get the feeling Puerto’s better days are behind it. There are a multitude of surf shops and souvenir stalls, but obviously not enough tourists to keep them going. Walls are unpainted, streets dirty, roadworks abandoned midway.
Even the poor oul’ cats are feline the pinch. Scrawniness surrounded my table as I was tucking into my Pescado al Ajo at Casa Amilia last night. I suppose I was asking for trouble ordering fish, but the cats were delighted, gulping it down without ceremony, bones and all.