The coast is clear

Angel's talk of armonía is more than just provincial posturing: Everyone in town wants to be my pal. Midway through our interview, a bleached-blond 20-something walks in (no shoes; though she is, I concede, wearing a bikini top). In an improbable London accent, she introduces herself as Bella, scribbles her e-mail address in my notebook, and walks out. This is not, I assure you, the kind of thing I'm used to — yet it keeps happening. Later that afternoon, a dreadlocked Mexican girl selling necklaces on Playa Principal approaches and asks if I'm from Italy. No, why? "Because I was thinking of trying Italy next year, and I want to know if I need a visa."

Puerto's social kaleidoscope is matched by its changing shoreline. Playa Marinero, I'm told, provides the perfect induction for intermediate surfers and bodyboarders (read: those too awed by the Pipeline). Though truth be told, even Marinero's waves give me too brutal a lashing. Two miles from town, at the foot of a steep, forested cliff, the protected bay of Playa Carrizalillo is more my speed. From my hammock there — on my private terrace at Villas Carrizalillo, Puerto's most beautiful hotel — I feel like I'm floating over an aerial triptych of green, turquoise, and gold.

The Costa Chica's beauty bleeds beyond Puerto. Just inland are the jungled peaks of the Sierra Madre del Sur, home to Oaxaca's resurgent coffee plantations (one of which is now run by the Hotel Santa Fe). And ten minutes west of town is Laguna Manialtepec, a wonderland for birders and kayakers that is separated from the coast by a two-mile-long canal. That's where I'm bound with my half-Swedish, half-Dutch, Mexican-born host Gustavo, known affectionately to his fellow Porteños as Huachinango ("Red Snapper"), because he looks European — as opposed to, say, indigenous, or Afro-Mexican, as is common along Oaxaca's ethnically diverse coast.

We're on wheels: The nightlong downpour has thrown a wrench into our long morning kayak mission, but Gustavo knows I'm up for an adventure, so he hatches an enterprising shortcut on a back road he's never driven. The plan is to reach the canal that connects Manialtepec to the sea and to launch ourselves — without our kayaks — into the water. En route, however, the flooded dirt track grows deeper and bumpier—comically so, as we're tossed about, "Dukes of Hazzard" style.

"This four-by-four must have taken a beating in its time," I tell him as we plow through the knee-deep mud.

"It's not a four-by-four," he replies.

Inevitably, our laughter dies, the pickup gets stuck, and we abandon it. We start walking, sloshing barefoot through hot pools of mud. At the coffee-colored canal, we strip down, jump in, and let the current sweep us toward the Pacific— here freshwater meets salt and a sandbar fractures the open sea. We trade Mexican and British slang, tie our T-shirts turban-style, and bob among the pelicans. I can't remember having this much Huck Finn-type fun since I was in short pants.

Julien Capmeil / CondeNast Traveler Fresh-caught lunch on a Huatulco beach.

For Gustavo, though, the adventure is double-edged. "Not too many people know about this place," he says. "I feel kind of funny publicizing it, although I guess it belongs to everybody."

But what of the more sanitized version of the Costa Chica? I discover it at Huatulco, 70 miles southeast of Puerto. Oaxaca's two seaside hubs may be just a two-hour drive from each other, but they are worlds apart. If Puerto is Oaxaca's magnet for singles, surfers, and budget-conscious venturers, Huatulco draws moneyed Mexican couples seeking their margarita in the sun. Or, if you had to put it in the winkingly pejorative slang favored by Mexico City types, Puerto is for nacos (low-class boneheads) and Huatulco is for fresas (snobs).

Whereas Puerto's ramshackle growth has happened without any federal investment, Mexico's tourism development arm, FONATUR, has so far plunged half a billion dollars into making Hua-tulco another Cancún. Yet the government, try as it might, has been unable to completely desiccate the area's natural beauty. In 1983 (just after the Hotel Santa Fe opened in Puerto), Huatulco set about turning 52,000 acres of virgin beach into a big-box five-star resort. A quarter of a century later, Huatulco's nine golden bays are still serviced by just 2,200 rooms — at best, a tenth of FONATUR's original target, and 500 fewer than Puerto.

MORE FROM MEXICO TRAVEL

Mexico Travel Section Front

The rich history in Mexico’s haciendas Swine flu down, bargains up in Mexico Swine flu reshapes Mexican tourism Mexico's lack of tourists makes way for locals Mexican airport operator feels flu's effect Mexico turns to tourism to lift economy Mexico City is a chic hot spot for pocos pesos Nonstop Mexico: Fly to the right beach It's time to check out your neighbors Mexico: Four little hot beach towns Mexico Travel Section Front   Add Mexico Travel headlines to your news reader: