El Bueno
Here are my feet enjoying the sun, sand and surf at Playa Coral in Puerto Escondido (the rest of me kinda dug it, too). On an absolutely stellar Saturday, this beach was nearly deserted. I was imagining beaches in the States on a day like this — they’d be packed — and I felt so privileged to have this killer beach practically to myself.

Here are two of the resident watch cats of my guesthouse, Hotel Tower Bridge, on the deck outside my room, keeping a vigilant eye out for creepy crawlies.
Well, maybe not so vigilant. Even highly trained Mexican asesino watch kitties need some shut-eye.
El Malo
The ocean here is beautiful but dangerous, with a deadly strong undertow and razor-sharp rocks at the western end of the beach. In the non-rocky area I didn’t dare go in the water past my waist, and even then was pulled around a bit more than I prefer.

I don’t know what happened to this poor guy, but he was magnificent. About 18 inches long, thicker than a football, his scales and fins the most vivid shades of blue, silver, green and purple. He had washed up on the shore, but got sucked back in by the powerful surf just after I snapped this. I wish I could have seen him through a scuba mask, swimming and doing his thing.
El Feo
Walking back to my guesthouse on my way back from dinner tonight (carne asada, which fits into the “bueno” category), I came across two girls, about 9 and 11, looking at a dark critter scurrying along the side of the road. It was the diameter of a baseball and I asked them, is it a frog? Es sapo? “No,” the older girl replied, casually smacking it with her rubber sandal, “es tarantula.” Which is absolutely the last thing on earth I want to encounter, ever … I have awakened to a tree rat scurrying across my forehead in Laos; I had a 5-foot boa constrictor enter my yard in the Philippines; I have crossed paths with a big monitor lizard in Kenya, and I would choose any or all of these over a huge furry tarantula. After I took a picture of the now-dead thing, the rest of my walk in the dark became agonizing … every shadow or fallen leaf was a tarantula, plotting to run up my exposed feet and legs. I got back to the guesthouse and told a few people there about the girls and the eight-legged beast. Their reaction: “Oh, why did they have to kill it? Why couldn’t they just let it live?” Sigh. International hippies … I love animals, and I know logically that tarantulas are relatively harmless, but to me the only reasonable response to seeing a tarantula is to murder it immediately. I hope the resident watch cats share my views.
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