Place of the Dead
The name Zipolite means (so I've been told) place of the dead. It's a beach paradise, but the water is extremely dangerous. According to the grape vine, a woman was killed the week before I got there.
As a side note, this seems to be a pattern now; someone being killed a week before I get there. I'm not going to hurry anywhere.
The beach is home to a hippy drug culture. Marajuana, nudists, and hammocks are everywhere. The beach itself is so beautiful, I felt like I was walking through a postcard.
The hotels (if you can call them that, perhaps "places on the beach whee there are cabanas" is a better name for them) had chairs and beach chairs, but if you wanted to sit in a hammock, you had to buy or rent it?! You'd think it would be cheaper for them to buy hammocks then chairs, but there is quite the trade in hammocks there.
I met a couple who tried to sell me a hammock they bought for $50US. They didn't want it anymore and would give it to me for $45. Something seemed strange. The hammock venders walk endlessly up and down the beach selling hammocks for $20 to $30.
Now, call me crazy, but I imagine these things are made by big machines run by slave children in sweat shops (like most clothes in the first world). The only material needed is string. How could they possibly cost $30 in a place where you can rent a two bed cabana for $4.
I didn't like the place. Not becuase of the drug pushers, not because the hyper inflated hammock market, not because of anything I could put my finger on. All I can say is that the place just had a wierd, bad energy to it. But, the swimming was fantastic.
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