The pupusa are attacking!

Headed down south to the land of the (crypto) mine

Overheard last night/far too early this morning from our cabin in El Zonte, El Salvador:

A very-real-sounding dog fight.

Several roosters.

Several more ATVs, seemingly street racing laps around our block at 3am.

The engine braking of some dozen 18-wheelers on the main road nearby.

The megaphone cry of a several trucks hawking produce.

An iguana on the roof. Or a squirrel. Do they have squirrels here?

Several presumably intoxicated men singing their way home, presumably from the bar, except there aren’t really any places that stay open past nine.

The fan on our ceiling. Thank goodness for the fan. It’s quiet thrashing is not the hum of an AC, but it’s much more than nothing, in a good way.

That’s not all to say that this place, dubbed “Bitcoin Beach” because of the mostly-invisible-to-us influx of crypto, is not a kind of hot-as-hell paradise. It is.

The main black sand beach forms a crescent bordered to the north by a massive cliffs, then several beautiful homes, then coconut palms, and then the drift wood porches of the several mom and pop, pupusa-serving restaurants that are the heart of the town. To the south, seaward, is a right hand wave that draws professional surfers in the high season, and folks like us in the now season.

The purpose of describing our cacophonous nighttime surrounds is not to complain about this beautiful place, it’s to say that El Zonte after dark sounds kind of like what I thought Mexico City would all day. And I couldn’t have been more wrong.

To rewind a bit, Ellie and I have both been very fortunate to have been to Mexico several times in our lives. I think I can speak for her in saying that every one of those visits has been incredible, but incredible in a quality-time-with-family-with-extra-and-extra-good-chips-and-guac kind of way.

And so when Ellie and I, her brother Jackson, our best friend Pam, and several other soon-to-be-buddies from LA first touched down in Cancun for our first stop in Mexico, I thought that Americanized experience is what we’d be getting.

Our next several hours and days did nothing to dull that sense.

First we weaved our way through an American-filled, hour-long customs bonanza, following the helpful advice of the customs agent who told us, “You just have to find the line. Then you’ll know where to go.”

Then we waited outside for our ride, listening to Cha-Cha Slide blast through the speakers of the curbside bar where people were sipping foot-long, nuclear-colored cocktails, Vegas style.

Then, finding our transportation complete with a TV screen that played music videos, we all attempted singing the Spanish subtitles to “Bohemian Rhapsody,” as we bobbed and weaved through traffic to the beautiful resort where Ali and Kyle were to be wed.

And what a wedding it was! I’ll spare everyone the details of the incredibly thoughtful details, the aromatic food, the coral sand spikeball, the jet-lagged Ellie who pledged to always be in the late-night crew at weddings (hold her to that one, folks), the electric first dance and wedding band, and most importantly, the heart-opening vows and genuinely-so-happy couple.

For the sake of this blog’s thesis, I will add that I didn’t speak or hear a lick of Spanish the whole weekend. After all, we were there to celebrate Ali and Kyle, not to experience the “real” Mexico. And to be honest, I had my hesitations about experiencing more of Mexico on our next stop: Mexico City.

Several of our best friends have long sworn it’s the best city anywhere. But it’s hard to shake our unfortunate national attitude towards our southern neighbors. Indeed when stories of a Mexico run by cartels and overflowing with desperate migrants fill every newspaper and stump speech, it’s hard to imagine it otherwise.

But man is it otherwise.

It was the most familiar city we’ve been to thus far, and in that it was one of the most surprising. I should clarify that we didn’t wander beyond the confines of the city’s safest neighborhoods, but that didn’t detract from the awe and comfort of strolling CDMX’s wide, verdant pedestrian walkways, wandering into its hipster cafes and letting our ears draw us towards any one of the countless musicians wandering from one outdoor restaurant to the next. It really changed my impression of the whole country.

Jackson, who planned everything to a T, and Pam, who can somehow keep up with his furious walking pace, led the charge. In tow were our friends from Seattle, Miriam and Nathan, pushing their stroller and in it their baby daughter Leora, the calmest and most inquisitive of 15-month olds. Ellie and I brought up the rear, both exhausted by our previous adventures and energized by the colorful, cosmopolitan, stylish, sonorous streets of Mexico City, which yes, is sinking.

Jackson—and occasionally the awesome guides he’d found—led us into eye-popping art galleries, (to use a term that will earn some serious side-eye from Ellie) swanky cocktail bars, jam-packed museums, cavernous cathedrals, a coffee tasting that changed my approach to all future food and drink and that reminded us all to wear deodorant around Pam (she nearly aced the blind smell test), and of course, to some of the best meals of our lives.

For example, on our last night we ate tuna tostada so good Miriam cried as she approached her last bite. It was my second favorite tostada of the trip.

In fact, on the long list of places to which we are already eager to return, Mexico City is both near the top and by far the closest to home. It’s near enough that when we go back (gd willing), we won’t have to fill our schedule with quite so much fun. Because as epic as our time in Mexico was, E and I are completely wiped out.

That’s why Bitcoin Beach is the perfect place to be. It’s why Ellie shook her head with a firm “no” when I proposed a day hike up one of El Salvador’s many volcanoes. It’s why it’s so great we’re with our friend Megan, who’s always down for whatever, especially chilling hard, and who also loves the shade. And it’s why it was such welcome news when we learned our cabin had been double booked and that we’d need to move into a cheaper room with AC and walls thick enough, we hope, to block out those ATVs. Whether or not a stranger moves in to claim the fourth bed, we all need a good nights rest. Because even though Megan said she got the ick when I asked our waiter “puedo pagar con bitcoin,” Ellie didn’t, so I guess we’re still mooning.