The OCC bus left Oaxaca at eight. Terminal was half full. A man selling churros by the door. Seat 19A. Window. A woman across the aisle with two kids. The younger one slept before we cleared the city.
The bus turned south and started climbing. Pine and the road winding up into the Sierra. I closed my eyes. When I opened them the driver had put on a film. I didn't watch. The kids did.
We stopped once around eleven at a roadside place. A torta. We got back on. The descent started after that. The green thickened and the air warmed. The road dropped in switchbacks and I could see the valley below, then trees, then palms.
We reached Puerto Escondido just past four. The terminal was loud. I walked out and found a taxi to Zicatela. He dropped me on the main road and I walked two blocks in. Found a guesthouse on a side street. Blue door, a woman at the desk. Room 4, second floor. I paid for one night and took the key.
The room was hot. I opened the window and turned the fan on. A moto. A dog. I walked back out around six. Stopped at a taco stand near the corner. Pescado, cabbage, lime. The beach was a block away. I walked down. The waves were big. I stood at the edge and watched. I did not go in.
Walked back as the light went. I bought some Micron.
— Finn