Hell No, We Won't Go!

OK.  So it wasn't Vietnam.  No VC firing at us, no Napalm.  But the weather... totally Vietnam.  It is clear that we are still operating (or were) under our previous climatic framework.  We were naive enough to believe that Mid-October at the beach would be delightful.  Mais, non!  Well, oui, if you consider 90+ degrees F and almost 100% humidity delightful.  So... no matter how much we love you family and friends, we refuse, refuse, refuse, to take you to the Pacific Coast unless you visit between December and February.  No matter how you plead, cajole or importune.  It is for your own good.  Really.

First, Kent talked us into it.  But that was August.  Then Alex was anxious to go to the beach and try out his new spear gun (don't get me going on that).  So we capitulated and headed off to Yelapa last Tuesday.  It turns out that Puerto Vallarta is actually 6 hours from Ajijic.  Once in Puerto Vallarta, you continue South on what could only be considered a donkey trail for another bone jarring hour.  You are then at Boca de Something (I forget) where you board a panga for another 45 minute jolting ride on the high seas.  The ride to Yelapa is beautiful. There is no question that you are leaving civilization and, if you do question that, all questions are dispelled upon arrival.  I mean, this town is OUT THERE. Far.  There are no roads that reach it nor are there roads once there.  We were met at the dock by a somewhat surly fellow who transported our luggage to our rented house by wheelbarrow.  And that was a mercy since Yelapa consists of two directions -- steeply up and steeply down.  It is sort of like the Cinque Terre without the Italian charm.

We arrived at our new pied a terre at exactly the time I had provided to our host and hostess.  They evinced great surprise at our arrival and told us that since they "had only arrived back in town yesterday" our apartment was not ready.  It would be a half hour.  We were directed to the rooftop deck to bask in the unremitting, blazing sun.  After the requisite half hour, I ventured down a flight to check on their progress.  "Oh, I don't know," Randy said, "how about another half hour?"  My retort was pithy. We installed our luggage and departed to find a source of cold, liquid fortification.

There is a lot of truth in the slogan "Location, Location, Location".  There is also a lot of truth in the statement "Timing is everything".  Yelapa is really beautiful with a long sandy beach, impressive peaks and a definite cast away feel to it.  And, I believe, in January it could be nirvana.  I'm just saying that so you won't think that I am a negative nelly who bellyaches about everything.  Intent on making the best of it, we feasted on food I had brought with us that night and fell asleep listening to the surf right outside our door.  The next morning, refreshed and with the temperature in the low 80s, we were ready to set out on our next adventure.


Somewhere Over the Rainbow...


Our plan was to rent horses and ride to a 100' waterfall up river from the beach.  Randy, our ever genial and completely feckless host, got in touch with the outfitter to see what he could arrange.  He quoted us 1200 pesos with the guide.  OK, so that's about $100 USD.  Ah, but how your perspective changes once you are operating within the Mexican economy.  "Highway robbery!" said Michael and I concurred.  In Ajijic, just down the street, we can rent horses for an hour for $8 USD.  "We'll just hike down there and bargain them down," said Michael and Alex.  "Randy's probably getting a cut," I said knowledgeably.

We descended from our pinnacle and approached the river.  Now the river empties into the bay between our rental and the horse rental place.  At the best of time and tide you have to wade across the river to reach the main beach and horse rental venue.  It was not the best of time/tide since tide was high and we'd have to swim the river.   We knew there was a bridge a "short way" up river so we headed out.   We walked about 25 minutes before we reached the bridge.  At that point, we conferred amongst ourselves.  Given that it would be another 25 minutes back down river to the horses and not fully confident that we could jawbone them down on price we decided we would just hike to the waterfall.  At worst, we were probably only 45 minutes to an hour away.  It was a little like the Bataan Death March.  Well, it didn't last weeks and there were no Japanese torturing or shooting us but, other than that, it was totally like it.

After a while we were tempted to grab a horse 

We should have known better.  Michael and I have a very bad track record in terms of actually locating waterfalls.  With this latest failure, we have now racked up five waterfalls that people swear exist but we have been unable to discover.  We walked for an hour.  No waterfall.  We inquired.  Directions were supplied. No waterfall.  We ended up high above the river in cornfields.  We could see quite a distance.  No waterfall.  We gave up...once again.  By now, it was about 11:00 and well over 90 degrees.  We had no water.  That was just stupid.  Michael was in cowboy boots.  OK on horses, not so  good hiking.  I kept turning my ankle on various nefarious rocks and limbs.  It was a vacation idyll!  Alex, old AT hand that he is, was outdistancing us coming and going.  He turned back to find us, looked at us hobbling along feebly, and sprinted ahead to return with water.  Four hours after departure, we hauled ourselves up the pinnacle and threw our sweaty, dehydrated bodies across hammocks and sofas.

Rooster & hens on the way to the elusive waterfall

In Search of the Blue Footed Boobies

So much for on-land adventure.  It was time to hit the high seas. We went down to Randy's apartment, kicking our way through the case of empties and several drained Tequila bottles he had amassed since his arrival home a day and a half ago, to see if he had arranged for our tour to The Marieta Islands.  There is a certain genre of ex-pat, often portrayed in Jimmy Buffet songs, who surfaces largely in coastal areas and on islands.  Unable or unwilling to fit in with the strictures of a culture that might require constancy in work or functioning without a hangover, they migrate to where they can exist on their affable charm, endless booze and very little money.  Randy might be the poster boy of the genre.  He assured us that he had located the primo guides to the Marietas and that their sleek craft and intimate knowledge of the fauna and sea life would provide an unforgettable trip.

The Marietas are a small string of islands that lie in the Bay of Banderas across from Puerto Vallarta.  They are further away than they appear as we were soon to find out.  Their claim to fame is that they are home to the rare and exotic Blue Footed Boobie.  These large birds look like any other Boobie except, well, you know, they have really blue feet.  They only breed in the Gallapagos Islands and the Mariettas.  We figured the boat ride out would be cheaper than going to the Gallapagos so we signed up for the trip.

We arrived at the pier with massive amounts of sunscreen and our snorkeling equipment.  A small panga approached and it was with some horror that I realized this was our transport to the islands.  Thanks Randy.  A panga looks a bit like a Boston Whaler with a sun tarp over the seats but it lacks the heft of a whaler.  It is a perfectly serviceable boat for running along the coast or a short hop from port to port.  But these islands were really out there.  Like the distance across the Long Island Sound-- and not at the skinny end.  I know I'm a big sissy but my doubts were further reinforced when I noticed our guide piling all the supplies on top of the life jackets that were already shoved under the bow of the boat in a totally inaccessible manner.  Rather than fussing, I gave myself up to karma and we shoved off.

You have NOT LIVED until you have careened through the open ocean waves in an entirely too small boat, slamming viciously through each crest, for a full hour and a quarter (but who was counting).  We were joined by four fellow travelers who seemed to mirror the emotions that we were experiencing. One man was turning green and the captain yelled at him to move to the side of the boat.  It turned out that he wasn't sea sick at all.  Unfortunately, he had a back problem and each slam of the boat was causing him excruciating pain.  After 45 minutes or so, I determined that if the boat hadn't been torn asunder by now we would probably survive and I surrendered myself to the experience... and it was pretty cool.

Michael has photos so I won't bore you with a verbal description of the islands.  Beyond the famous Blue Footed Boobies, there were zillions of frigate birds and many other species.  The snorkeling was quite good (not Vieques standard according to Michael and Alex) and the guide DID make a mean ceviche.  Which, being raw fish, is probably not the best meal for the seasick prone but since we don't suffer the affliction we ceviched away.

Alex on the panga with Las Marietas in the background

Blue footed boobie on Las Marietas

Arch carved through the rocks by the water at Las Marietas

Alex & one of our fellow travelers snorkeling

Sun bronzed and boobied and snorkeled out, we returned to home port.  We asked to be dropped at the beach since we were in extreme need of a margarita.  Well, we had TWO margaritas (a long day) and Alex opined that we could avoid the ascent to the pinnacle if we merely traversed the beach, the river, more beach and then climbed up the rocks in front of our house.  Atop the rocks was a gate that led into the house.  Excellent.  Across the beach, across the river, more beach.  Carrying our snorkel gear etc. we scaled the not insubstantial rocks (sort of cliff like) in front of the house.  And went to open the gate... which was locked.  Oh, God.  We knocked, we shouted for Randy.  Nothing.  I announced that I would rather die of old age on those rocks than retrace our steps and have to ascend the pinnacle.  There was a plan.  Alex would boost Michael over the 5' gate, he would squeeze through the 2 foot opening and unlock the gate.  You know... we're really not that young anymore.  But Michael did it.  And announced that it was a padlock.  I didn't think I had it in me but Alex boosted me, I got a foot hold on an adjacent wall and somehow squeezed my body over the gate to be caught by Michael on the other side.  Unfortunately there was no one to boost Alex so he was forced to climb up the sheer incline next to the gate through what, no doubt, was scorpion infested underbrush.  He survived and we all threw our sweaty, dehydrated bodies across hammocks and sofas.  A recurring theme.

A view of the beach we walked across, the rocks we climbed and the stairway to the rear entrance

And then we went home.  In our air conditioned car.  It was very good.

Looking Forward

Well, since our return we've been taking things fairly slow.  Getting Alex ready for his blast-off to Vieques and gearing up for Gary and Ginny's arrival and the endless fiestas ahead.  Hope all of you are having a great fall (I keep checking those New England forecasts).  Take care.

A pelican, two snowy egrets and three cormorants on the rocks below our terrace

A view of the harbor from our terrace

A view of Yelapa from our terrace --- note how quickly the land ascends from the harbor

Our restaurant refuge after Las Marietas

All you need is a wake board to have fun if you are a child in Yelapa

The beach with the beach front restaurants 

Our terrace of the house in Yelapa --- Alex really enjoyed the hammock!

The terrace with a view of the interior --- the openness was great since there was no air conditioning

Surf's up, but the birds are safe on their rock

Alex with our waiter from Tacos Y Mas surveying the new construction --- they just added another floor to a new house

Sun setting behind the hill and the clouds

    

She's Back and Other Random Notes

Well, you may remember from several posts ago that the Virgin of Zapopan had begun her arduous trek around the Lake in the ongoing effort to insure that our water levels would reach optimal heights.  Months have passed, rainy season has come and gone, and the lake has swelled although not to the miraculous levels we all (including the Virgin, I am sure) might have wished. We hold no grudge however, since she cannot be held responsible for global warming, poor water resource planning and fractious cartel hijinks on the south shore of the Lake which, no doubt, made her task more overwhelming.  So, she has wended her way back to Guadalajara.  What now?  Of course, it's time for a fiesta!  Yes, the Fiesta de Octubre.

This is the big time fiesta in the land of big time fiestas.  For starters, they are not exaggerating.  The fiesta lasts for a solid month.  Every day, every night.  It begins with a parade from the Cathedral in downtown Guadalajara to the Virgin's home church in Zapopan.  The parade starts at midnight and features everything you would and wouldn't expect including, of course, the Virgin, charros, mariachis, folkloric dancers, multitudes of bands featuring tubas, floats with local beauties and less predictably pre-colonial Indigenous Dancers who may, or may not, worship exactly the same Virgin.  Given that the parade started at midnight and that we are older than dirt, Michael and I decided to give it a pass.  Our friend Robert was over and we were expressing our regret that due to the hour we had missed it. "Oh, you didn't have to miss it," he said," you could show up at 7 or 8 in the morning and it would still be going on full steam."  Now, THAT is what I call a parade.  Putting it on the calendar for next year. But that is just the beginning.  Every night there are free performances in the main plaza in Guadalajara, a giant on-going fiesta/amusement parky/performance thing at the major auditorium and fair grounds and never ending fireworks.

Speaking of fireworks...This morning at 6 AM Michael and I were jolted from slumber by the sound of what appeared to be a 747 crashing into our house.  But it went on longer than that would.  Turns out it is time to celebrate...yes...another Virgin.  We had been wondering why we were hearing an increasingly deafening crescendo of fireworks over the last week. Turns out, according to the Guadalajara Reporter, "Ajijic dedicates October to the "Virgen del Rosario" (the Virgin of the
Rosary), the town's most cherished spiritual icon".  This dedication features the faithful gathering at dawn each day for processions and early morning prayer services held at the San Andres church where the antique image resides all month until her return trip to her home chapel on the north side of the Plaza. I'm telling you, these Virgins like to move around!  Since dawn is now around 7:15 AM, we can only surmise that the 6AM fireworks serve as the town wide wake up call.  Well, only 17 more days left in October.  And then it's time for the Day of the Dead.  And then the November celebration of Saint Andres-- the village's patron Saint (not to be confused with the villages most cherished spiritual icon).  Apparently, from now until January, it is an endless series of events of both a religious and secular nature all of which feature abundant celebration and, of course, fireworks.

The Boy is Back in Town...

Alex arrived in Guadalajara on September 28th and will be with us until October 27th when he will move on to Vieques to seek further adventure.  His entry to Mexico was amusing if not entirely smooth.  Ever the considerate son, he purchased lobsters at Legal Seafood in the Boston airport assuming, correctly, that we missed eating lobster. The people at Legal Seafood assured him that people took lobster to Mexico "all the time". Well -- liars, liars pants on fire.  The lobsters were very well behaved on the flight and Alex meandered through the entry point to customs where, predictably, the lobsters were subdued and apprehended.  He pleaded that they were treasured pets capable of amazing tricks but the custom officials merely licked their lips and brutally removed them from his care.  He is still getting over it.  Welcome to Mexico.

So, we have been having fun introducing Alex to the ways of Mexico.  We have yet to venture too far afield but this week will head for Yelapa.  This is a small town on the south coast of the Bay of Banderas which is reachable only by boat.  It is 4 and 1/2 to 7 hours away depending on who you believe ... so Mexico.  It is near Puerto Vallarta but hopefully lacks everything Puerto Vallarta possesses. We did take him to Tequila and Guachimontones -- a trip we now know we will not repeat with future visitors.  Tequila is a famous for ...  of course.  It is also famous for the Tequila Express which is emblematic of everything that is wrong with Tequila.  For approximately $50 USD tourists can board the Tequila Express train with roving bands of Mariachis and several hundred other tourists whose entire mission is to get completely obliterated by Tequila in as short a period of time as possible.  Which is generally about 20 miles beyond Guadalajara and still 20 miles from Tequila.  Once there, the now inebriated visitors are led to the Cuervo Distillery.  For a sizable additional entry fee, they are allowed, if their vision still permits, to observe how Tequila is made and they are then siphoned (no pun intended) into the exorbitant gift shop where they can purchase, yes, even more tequila.  Herded once more on to the train, they are tortured by blaring Mariachis and regurgitating drunks all the way back to Guadalajara.  We, seasoned expats that we are, spared Alex this trauma and merely drove to Tequila, but that was bad enough.  When we reached the Cuervo distillery we learned that entry would be about $20 USD per person,  no tours were available for over an hour and they were all Spanish.  We looked at each other. "Ah, forget it," said Alex. "I saw the tour on the History Channel last year."

On to Guachimontones ...  This is an archeological site featuring round pyramids built by an obscure group somewhat related to the Aztecs at about the same time as the Mayans were doing their thing (peak around 400-800 AD).  Michael and I had been there before and found it somewhat interesting.  I mean they don't know much about them but, hey, round pyramids (?) that's kind of cool.  However, they have improved the site.  This is what that means in Mexican speak.  They used to have a parking lot from which you walked about 50 feet over level ground to reach the site.  They have now erected a new, beautifully paved parking lot, complete with attentive parking attendants.  It is about a half mile from the site down a hill with a grade of about 25%.  There is no water, no benches on which to rest during your torturous ascent nor defibrillators en route.  The pyramids of the Nile, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Angor Wat...nothing is worth this trek.  But we did it.  Panting in the scant shade of a partially excavated round pyramid Alex opined, "Well, it's not Coba or Tulum."  Sometimes it's difficult being a parent.

View from Guachimontones to the town and lake below

One of the round pyramids of Guachimontones

A much more successful trip was made to Tapalpa.  Like Mazamitla, Tapalapa is at about 8,000 feet and has a very alpine feel to it with many pine trees and cool mountain breezes.  The architecture is very distinctive with all the houses and buildings being white adobe with red tile roofs.  And the local food is delicious.  So we ambled on up to Tapalpa one day, had a marvelous lunch and then set out to see the wildflowers. Like in the desert, once the rains stop all the wild flowers come out.  October is the big month around here.  And it is pretty spectacular.  Whole fields covered in cosmos.  Zinnias are wild flowers here.  There are a  zillion that I don't know the names of.  Here, pictures truly are worth a thousand words so I'll stop.

Looking up from the plaza in Tapalpa

A building showing the architecture of Tapalpa

Another Tapalpa building

The wildflowers outside Tapalpa

More wildflowers

And even more wildflowers

Wildflowers looking like an impressionist painting

The abundance of wildflowers is almost overwhelming

Even more wildflowers!

Why are these people smiling? .... Because of the amazing display of wildflowers!

Of course for some the wildflowers are just an eating treat.

Just can't get enough of those ... wildflowers!

One last note:

I had completely forgotten this from our trip to the colonial cities.  While Michael, Stanley, Eduardo and I were sitting at the bar in Queretero watching the Democratic Convention, an old guy came up and asked Eduardo if he wanted to do something with this strange looking machine.  He politely declined  and resumed watching the TV.  "What was that?"  I asked him.  "Oh, he just wanted to see if I wanted to be hooked up to it to see how much of an electrical shock I could take" he said calmly. "What? A guy strolls the Plaza seeing if you want to be electrocuted?" I asked.  "Yeah, well it used to be a big deal but nobody does it much anymore.  Guys would be drinking and they'd each do it to see who could take the biggest shock without like, you know, screaming or something.  But, not a lot of guys do it anymore."  See, we ARE evolving.

Michael & our gardener, Frederico, who took Alex & Michael on a three hour hike up the mountain above Ajijic.

A view of Ajijic and Lake Chapala from the mountain.

And so, that's it for now.  We'll post again after our trip to Yelapa.  In the interim, have fun and let us know what you are up to.