To realize the dream of Oaxaca's jeweled shoreline, it's worth exploring the reality of its isolated and embattled land. The coast has stayed anonymous because it's hell to reach: The 180-mile road there from the state capital is an eight-hour white-knuckle ride through jungle and mountain (though a daily flight connects the two in 40 minutes). What's worse, recently there were riots in Oaxaca City. What started as an annual teachers' strike for better wages escalated in the summer of 2006 into barricaded protests against the state governor, Ulises Ruiz (who's been accused of diverting millions of dollars toward suspect "public" projects). The police moved in, the violence turned deadly (claiming the life of an American documentarian), and the world media branded the evocative Mexican city a no-go zone.Julien Capmeil / CondeNast TraveBrowsing in Mazunte.Oaxaca is still hurting. Since the most recent disturbances, in July 2006, the capital remains a shadow of its former vivacity by day and ghostly quiet by night. The coast, meanwhile, has suffered by association — despite being totally divorced from any of the troubles. "It hit us terribly," says Robin Cleaver, co-owner of Puerto Escondido's most venerated hotel, the Santa Fe. "But the truth is, we've had long cycles of bad luck. Just look at what happened in the '90s." By which he means the Mexican peso crisis of 1994; the Zapatista rebel uprising of the same year, which threw neighboring Chiapas into turmoil, and whose restive image spilled over onto Oaxaca; and 1997's Hurricane Pauline, which slammed dead-on into Puerto Escondido and still ranks among Mexico's deadliest. Add to that the fact that this is the country's second-poorest state (after Chiapas) and you have some idea of why the Costa Chica remains off the radar.
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