xical: where the sun hits wrong and the internet forgets

i rolled into xical last night with nothing but a backpack full of memories and a phone that kept dying. the map app showed me as somewhere between a lost tourist and a pilgrim, but honestly, the coordinates were just a guess. the weather here is this weird 25.58°C thing that feels like a sauna in a bikini. i just checked and it's...there right now, hope you like that kind of thing. not that i complain. the sun doesn’t care. the humidity here is 87% and it’s not even raining. just a constant sticky cling that makes your skin feel like it’s made of plastic. if you get bored, the nearest town is a 45-minute bus ride, but honestly, the locals here seem to have better ideas for a nap. i heard that from a guy selling tamales near the bus stop. he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. which is probably true.

there’s this place called the old lighthouse. or maybe it’s a ruin. i don’t know. i tried to find it but ended up wandering into a park where everyone was either stealing limes or crying into mango juice. the lighthouse thing was probably a myth. or maybe it’s real and no one wants to talk about it. it’s xical. it’s a city that forgets things. even the reviews on tripadvisor seem to forget. i saw one from 2017 that said ‘the beach is amazing’ and another from last week that said ‘the beach is a scam.’ i’m not sure which one is true. maybe both.

i met a guy who claimed he’s a professional chef. he was cooking something in a trash can. it smelled like regret and garlic. i asked him what he was doing and he said, ‘this is my art.’ i’m not sure if he was serious or just bored. either way, he handed me a piece of what might have been a volcano. it was warm. i ate it. it tasted like tree.

the neighbors here are strange. not in a creepy way, but like, they exist. one woman was painting her fence with what looked like molten chocolate. another man was trying to teach his dog to play the piano. i didn’t ask why. i just took a photo. the dog was not playing. the piano was not happening. but the photo is on my phone. i’ll show it to someone someday. maybe.

i heard that the local bars are all owned by people who once ran a cult. or maybe that’s just a story. i don’t know. i didn’t go inside any of them. i heard that from a drunk guy at a convenience store. he was selling energy drinks and crying about his ex. i bought one. it tasted like vinegar and hope.

there’s a place called the digital nomad hub. it’s a room with free wifi and a lot of people who look like they’ve given up. i didn’t go in. i just sat outside and watched them type on their laptops. they looked like they were solving the world’s problems. or maybe they were just avoiding them. i can’t tell.

i took some photos. not great. the first one is a white and yellow building under a blue sky. the second one is a street sign that reads ‘no cargo’ in a language i don’t recognize. the third one is a cat sleeping on a bicycle. i’ll try to find the links to unsplash later. maybe.

i checked the reviews again. someone said that the water here is so bad you’ll get sick just by touching it. another said the sand is made of old teeth. i don’t know if that’s true. maybe. maybe not. i’m not sure. i’m not sure about anything here.

the map shows me somewhere near the coast. but the coast is just a line on the screen. i’ve never been. i don’t know if it’s real. i don’t know if i’ll ever go. but the internet says it’s there. and that’s enough for now.





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