Copala, Mexico December 28, 1978

We drove from Puerto Angel to Acapulco through a flat, red, parched, and barren landscape.   

Around five we pulled into a sleepy little town called Copala.  There was a basketball game going on in the main square; it looked like the entire town was there.  So we asked one of the locals if there was a hotel.  He said there wasn’t one, but there was a house where a woman rented rooms, and pointed us to a small casa where a young girl was sweeping the ‘sidewalk’.  We asked her if there were any rooms to rent, and without saying a word she led us through the front door and main room of the house, which seemed neat and clean enough, albeit very sparsely ‘furnished’, to the back ‘porch’.  The porch was roofed and contained a double bed, and the family’s stove.  So presumably it was the ‘kitchen’.  It looked clean and there were sheets on the bed.  We asked if there was a ‘bano’ – a place to wash?  She pointed to a well just outside, in the courtyard – with an outhouse nearby.  We were tired, thirsty and hungry, and there weren’t any other options, except for continuing to drive, but Acapulco was still a few hours away, and driving and arriving there in the dark didn’t appeal to either of us, so we took the ‘room’ and went out to find something to eat.  

The well in our 'hotel' in Copala.

We headed back to the plaza, where the basketball game had now ended, and women and children had thrown down blankets and set up boxes, tables and even some crude stands where they were selling drinks and snacks, including, of course, tacos.  I spied some juices that looked, and asked the woman if they were made with water… .  Answering ‘no, pura jugo de fruta’, she poured me a tall glass and handed it to me.  I took her at her word and downed the whole thing, realizing only after my last swallow that it seemed a little ‘watery’...

 

By the middle of the night my stomach was churning and my guts were cramping.  I had a good case of ‘turista’.  I must have made a half-dozen trips, in the dark, stumbling down the rough stone steps, to the little shower-curtained out-house.  By morning I was pretty weak and feeling slightly nauseous, but free of cramps and no more diarrhea, so we decided to head to Acupulco, where at the very least we could get a better room.  Although I didn’t feel like eating, we stopped early for a 7-up (no more ‘jugos’ for me), which worked wonders – the fizz and the sugar settled my stomach, and feeling much better we cruised into Acapulco.

                            Me the 'morning after', in our porch room in Copala.  

 

We stayed only one night in Acapulco – just long enough to have a hot shower and clean up.  Neither of us were interested in hanging out in such a busy and touristy city.  The next day we jumped in the bug and headed up to Taxco.