Orgasmic Micheladas at Restaurante Marifer: a narrative of Pie de la Cuesta

A bout of wanderlust last summer left me itching to get out of D.F. to explore parts of Mexico that I had never visited.

After a friend decided to lend us her car for a few days, we decided to take a road trip to Acapulco. I wanted to spend a day or two indulging in the antique glamour of the jet-set 60′s I associated with the city, and then take a drive down the coast of Guerrero. I had heard there were places a few hours south of the city where, for a few pesos, you could sleep in a palapa on the beach and buy your meals from passing fishermen, eager to sell you part of that morning’s catch.

One day in Acapulco proved enough time to see the cliff divers at La Quebrada and explore Acapulco Viejo, the quaint neighborhood surrounding the Zócalo on the western side of the bay. We avoided the Cancun-esque neighborhoods further east, which are full of nightclubs (some gay) and chain restaurants like Planet Hollywood and Señor Frog’s.

The Xanadu I had hoped we would encounter a few hours south of the city never materialized. Instead we found a dirty stretch of sand and palapas that we affectionately referred to as “Bladerunner Beach.” There, quatrimotos (ATVs) driven by ten-year-olds criss-crossed the beach at high speeds while leering men attempted to sell us rides on the skeletal horses they dragged behind them. The ocean water was brown from the sand that had been stirred up by the rough surf and much warmer than this Northern California native was used to.

We decided to bid farewell to Bladerunner Beach and instead of pressing further south in search of an idyllic strip of beach we did not even know the name of, we headed back up the highway, to Pie de la Cuesta, an isthmus just north of Acapulco. A lesbian couple we knew had just come back from spending a week there, and had recommended it as an alternative to the garbage-strewn beaches of Acapulco.

To get a room, I suppose one could make reservations, but we just drove up and down the single road that runs parallel to the ocean and inquired about prices and accommodations at places that looked nice. Most hotels offer swimming pools and beach access in sparse rooms with fans (and no air conditioning). Prices ran between 250 and 400 pesos per night. Our hotel, the courtyard of which is pictured below, was no exception, and was either called Quinta Blanca or Quinta Azul. There is also an RV park.

The main pastime at Pie de la Cuesta is lounging under palapas on the beach, where you must pay a minimal fee for use of the shade and hammocks. Food and drinks can be ordered directly to the beach. Vendors walk up and down the beach in the hot sun selling snacks, trinkets, and jewelry. A walk down the beach in either direction will reveal abandoned buildings as well as more upscale hotels. According to locals, it is not safe to walk along the beach at night.

(If you are in your twenties, expect to hear occasional murmurs of “coca… mota… coca… mota…” ["cocaine... pot..."] from passing vendors. The state of Guerrero is a center for drug trafficking, and merchandise on its way to the US has trickled down to locals and beach-going tourists. I cannot speak to the quality or safety of these transactions if you choose to buy.)

If you get bored of the beach, it is possible to take a boat up the river where there are many little restaurants of varying quality. Ask about getting a mud treatment at a site along the banks. Supposedly, Juan Gabriel swears by it.

The highpoint of our trip to Pie de la Cuesta was unexpected. We found ourselves famished after nine one rainy evening and walked down the road to the nearest open restaurant. We were the only customers at Restaurant Maryfer (alternately spelled Marifer on the menu) although it was hard to tell who was the wait staff and who was just hanging out in this modest restaurant. A faggy teen with frosted tips took our order and headed back to the kitchen. A door in the restaurant led to an adjoining apartment from which a big, butch lesbian would emerge every few minutes, usually in patient pursuit of a small child. We saw another butch lesbian, slightly younger, wander back from the kitchen into the apartment. Where were we?

We wanted to take advantage of the fresh seafood available on Mexico’s coasts, and the menu had several unusual offerings on it in addition to the usual styles of pescado and camarones (a la veracruzana, al la diabla, al ajillo). The waiter brought out the chef to answer our questions about the curiously named “camarones a la mamada“. He explained that he had traveled all over Mexico to learn different styles of Mexican cooking featured on the menu, but that the camarones a la mamada were his own creation. What arrived was a visual as well as gastronomic feast: an enormous plate of whole shrimps (with heads) seasoned with a mayonnaise and chipotle-based marinade were served with a side of rice. The color was a fiery orange, the taste was rich and spicy but not overwhelmingly so. I supposed the name meant that the shrimps were to be sucked out of their shells, but I’m not ashamed to say I ate each entire prawn, head and all, so flavorful was this dish.

The other gem on the menu was more traditional fair: the micheladas were the best I’ve ever had. Served with ice (necesary in the oppressive humidity of the Guerrero coast) these were spicy and fresh, lighter and yet more flavorful than the best bloody mary. We couldn’t resist coming back and having another round at eleven the next morning, when we encountered even more gay and lesbian locals hanging out and stopping by. One big machota that was working in the kitchen would occasionally come outside to hack open a coconut with a machete on a rough wooden table in front of the restaurant.

When asked if he would mind us mentioning his restaurant in a gay guide to Mexico, the chef and owner, Jose Manuel Nieto, happily agreed, stating that he was gay and pointing out the subtle rainbow on the restaurant’s sign. He also mentioned that they rented rooms behind the restaurant, though we were not able to see the accommodations. Additionally, he told us that there was a small water-park behind the restaurant, and that he would be willing to close the water-park to the public for private parties if there were gay groups that wanted to use it.

So, plan a meal, a trip, or a gay pool party at fabulous Maryfer.

Pie de la Cuesta is accessible by bus or taxi from Acapulco (it is about a twenty minute drive from Acapulco Viejo). Unless you are determined to explore surrounding areas, I recommend taking a bus from Mexico City over driving. Unless you are traveling in a group of four or five, the tolls on the highway are much more than a roundtrip bus ticket, and long stretches of the road are very poorly lit at night.

Restaurante Maryfer, Av. Fuerza Aerea Lote 3 Manz. 59, Pie de la Cuesta, Acapulco