Cuyutlán
Continuing to walk up and down the only paved road in Cuyutlán, sweat flowing from any place that it can in a Mexican summer's afternoon heat. A 10 minute walk reveals that the entire street in comprised of cheap home-food vendors, 6 hotels (most doubling as restaurants), tourist supplies/accessories and 3 all-purpose corner store outlets containing basic groceries and hard liquor. It is a rare sight to see a local moving about the street during the day, each has their station (normally also their homes). They are working. Most of the store owners sit around watching television all day and it is easy to see why with such a sparse population and the merciless day-time heat upon them. Attempts at achieving a kind of vegetative state are made and only ever interrupted by the intrusion of a customer who normally needs to borrrow something to serve their own patron.
One seldom sees much of anything going on during the day or at night. This is a place to drop out and disappear into the hazy horizon of the black sand beaches that appear at dusk. Cuyutlán is one of the first in a string of towns towns dotted along Michoacan's pacific coast that are yet to be developed into the 5 star hotel resorts that are hard to avoid as a foriegner in this part of Mexico. These towns are said to be popular with vacationing Mexicans and visiting them is a great way to get out of the heavy tourist scene while following the coast. My timing into this place had me here during the low-season (dictated by the vacation calender of the united states) which has meant that there are lower prices, less facilities and less people.
After a trawling through every hotel in the street and inquiring prices my cheapest place put me at 100 pesos a night. The place was called Casa Grande, an old hacienda once owned by a wealthy mexican family but now partially delapidated and run by one man named Miguel. It was a good deal for a place some 50 meters from the beach. At the time, there were 3 Canadian girls staying at the hotel as well, of whom Miguel turned out to be quite partial to. The girls had been causing a ruckus in the town according to Miguel, they were returning to the hotel too late for him and it had him worried. They were running about with a bunch of mexican artists who were in town to create some salt art (Cuyutlan is best known for its salt) it was all very harmless but Miguel was feeling obliged in his adopted parental role. He gave the girls an ultimatum, be at the hotel by 12 each night or leave. There was never going to be any other answer, they left to stay in the rooms of the artists and I got kicked out because Miguel wanted to leave for Guadalajara.
I moved along to a place closer to the beach called Hotel Fenix, pricier but free breakfast was included each morning. It had its own bar open until late each night and an open-air restaurant. It was owned by an old American ex-pat and had been in his family since 1939. He spends every night chain smoking, sipping rum and going through blues catalogues on his computer. I got talking to him while he continued to pour me pint after pint of beer, only ever pausing every 5 minuted or so to cough up some white phlegm.
Cuyutlan is at its best as the sun sets, one can sit on one of the many deckchairs, order some drinks and food and watch some locals fishing with hand wreels as the light fades away. There are supposed to be many more like it along the coast which all follow from a single highway, a good trip.
