I will make a concerted effort to post another blog here soon.
Please check back soon.
Sorry for the delay, but I’ve been busy trying to rebuild our savings
06
Oct
The Shakedown
28
Mar
Well, we’ve heard all the warnings about traveling through Mexico; from the State Department’s official website, to the constant news reports of drug violence on TV, as well as from friends and family who share this sentiment and think we’re nuts. Sure, there’s some major problems along the border towns, but for the most part its drug on drug violence and they do not target tourist. Traveling is never safe and it never will be, but you’re more likely to get in an accident within ten miles of your home than you are traveling abroad. Plus iff you look at the statistics there is more violent crime per capita in the USA than any other place in the world. Mexico is #12th.
Life is risky and its dangerous just walking outside your door everyday, but with risk comes reward. When we travel we take precautions, keep our eyes open, minimize our exposure by keeping valuables secured and watch each others backs. It only takes one incident to learn your lesson, so we’ve already had our wake up call and have made adjustments. Sure, we’ve had a stolen bike seat here, a pair of flip flops missing there, but we’ve had our closest call in San Diego, so it can happen anywhere. The scariest part about that “smash and grab” of my laptop in San Diego is that we were sleeping in the RV just upstairs and still couldn’t do a thing about it. And this happened in broad daylight at 9:00 on a Sunday morning in a nice neighborhood. These crack smokers were able to smash the driver’s side window and jump half way into the rig and grab the strap of my laptop bag all within seconds. Although, given one more second that punk would be missing a hand, since I sleep with a machete under my pillow and I more than happy to use it. I have since added a slingshot to my arsenal and a zip lock baggie full of perfectly round rocks for the next thief who has the huevos to flip me off while making their escape.
Smash and Grab
The reason I bring this up is because after 2 months of traveling through Mexico we’ve never really had a problem or felt unsafe. A stolen bike seat was our biggest loss and being a cyclist I was way more upset about my seat than my laptop, because it wasn’t a normal size seat post and would be nearly impossible to replace while in Mexico. I made due by tying my tennis shoe over the post’s stub to prevent a catastrophe if I happened to slip a pedal. Anyway, as we were traveling north we came across an “unofficial” toll booth in the last large town of Hermosillo, Mexico. We were at a stop light and as the light turned green we were taking off with the rest of the traffic, a man in a yellow reflective vest jumps out in front of us and motions for us to pull over. I see his beat up, non-descript white van on the side of the road with some unofficial looking type on the hood “transito policia”, but it’s missing a couple letters, so I’m immediately suspicious. The man pictured below comes up to my window and asks for my driver’s license.
Hermosillo, Mexico Hiway Robbery
At first he tells me that we were speeding. Anyone who’s ever driven an RV knows that they’re not known for their jack rabbit starts and we were well behind the rest of the pack of cars, so that’s his first lie. He then tells me that I wasn’t wearing my seat belt, but I had just unbuckled it to go and get my driver’s license at his request, lie #2. I hand him my license thinking he’s just going to hit us up for a few bucks, which he immediately does. He tells me that the price for “not” wearing my seat belt in Spanish is $–. I tell him I do not understand $– and then he writes $70 in the air. I ask Jen to grab some pesos from the lock box. I fold up a $100 peso ($8.30 US) and try to hand it to him. He refuses and says another number $— in Spanish. I tell him I do not speak Spanish, so this time he writes $750 on the back of his metal ticket box. I’m not even sure we have that much in pesos, since we just filled up with gas and we intentionally didn’t want to be left with a bunch of pesos before we crossed the border.
Hermosillo, Mexico Shakedown
Now Jen starts to get upset, because she realizes that we’re getting ripped off. As soon as she starts to raise her voice he immediately says in perfect English that she wasn’t wearing her seat belt either and the fine is now $1,000 pesos. We argue that we were wearing them, and then he tells us he doesn’t speak English. He tells us we must go down to the police station to pay the fine and retrieve my driver’s license. I ask him “cuando, donde?” As the argument is escalating I notice that he is looking all around the inside of the RV. He is peaking his head into the cab and looks in my lap, at my feet and inside the ash tray an in the back. I don’t know if he trying to catch us on some potentially bigger violation or if he’s just looking for something he may want to take as a bribe.
Hermosillo, Mexico ticket
After I notice this peculiar behavior I take a closer look at him and realize he’s not wearing a badge, a name tag or any sort of official police uniform. Upon closer inspection I notice that he’s not carrying a gun, his radar gun doesn’t work, because there are no lights on and his “official” looking tool belt contains nothing more than a mag flash light and could be purchased at any Army Surplus store. I then ask him for some ID. When he refuses I whisper to Jen to grab my camera, which is locked away in the back. As he’s writing out the ticket I snap few shots of him just because there is no other way to identify him if he take off with my driver’s license. Right then I noticed an RV driving by, I try, but cannot get their attention. I get out of the RV hoping there’s a caravan of RV coming who might be able to help. Frustrated, he asks me to sign the ticket. I scribble a sig on the line and he hands me back my driver’s licenses. Not trusting him enough to turn my back I walk sideways keeping an eye on him as I walk back to the RV. I waste no time leaving. We both breathe a deep sigh of relief as we drive away without so much as a peso lost. To this day I’m still not too sure if he was legit or not, but I suspect not.
Violent crime statistics
When in Rome…
21
Mar
We’ve all heard the old saying “When in Rome (do as the Romans do).” Well, we only have a week left of vacation and time has flown by without accomplishing everything we’ve wanted to, so we’ve decided to start getting busy having some authentic fun with the locals. To tell you the truth we should have left for home by now, but we’re only a couple days away from Carnival, so we decided to extend our stay by another week.
Carnival Poster - Return of the Muses
It’s Sunday and every Sunday morning at Punta Cerritos RV park there is usually a group of people who meet at the gate and ride their bikes to a local place to have breakfast together. This time the group must have had their extra cup of coffee, because we rode all the way down to old downtown Mazatlan. It’s a beautiful day and it feels good to get in some exercise so early. We stop into an old restaurant that has a big patio facing the ocean with enough room to accommodate our large group. It’s a neat place with lots of history and old photos of famous actors from the 40′s and 50′s. I can picture John Wayne, James Dean or Errol Flynn having a whiskey and a smoke out here on the deck back in the day.
Carnival Mazatlan, Mexico
We all have a good breakfast and the group goes their separate ways. Jen and I decide to go check out the big market that we’ve heard so much about. We walk around the shops that seem to sell all of the same old tourist crap. I don’t understand how that works, but it obviously does, because they’re still in business. Anyway, I forgot that I’ve given up on figuring out why things are done the way they are here in Mexico, and instead just enjoy the experience. We walk through the meat market next and at first I thought I’d be totally grossed out by the blood, guts and smell, but I wasn’t. It smelled fresh, clean and real. No artificial colors, preservatives or steroids added here. Some of the more peculiar items I wonder how they were consumed such as chicken’s feet, pig noses and ox tails, but I’m just not that brave to attempt such fate to give them a try.
Old Town Mazatlan, Mexico
Next stop: the oldest barber shop in Mazatlan
We just stumbled upon it as we were searching the outskirts of the town square. I’m in desperate need of a shave and a haircut, cause I’ve ran out of sharp razors, or more like Jen started using them on her legs, about a week ago, so I’ve got a week old beard that’s starting to get really itchy. I ask how much it cost and how long before I can get in. They tell me it’s $50 pesos for the hair cut and $30 peso for a shave. The young barber tells me to come back in 30 minutes and they’ll be ready for me. I forgot it’s “Mexico” time and it was more like an hour, but it was good to take a break from walking and watch the locals do their thing. Finally it’s my turn, and usually I like getting my hair cut; it’s relaxing, so I thought having a shave would be equally as relaxing, if not more. Wrong, there’s nothing like having a total stranger holding a straight edge razor to your jugular vein to make you feel relaxed. Not only that, but while I was waiting several cars had back fired and I thought for sure it would happen now and my throat would be slit from ear to ear. I was so nervous that I really started to sweat. I mean really sweat and my palms could have been used as little humming bird baths from all the sweat collecting in them. It was the closest shave I’ve ever had in my life and didn’t need to shave for another 3 days afterward, but I’ll never do that again.
A view of Mazatlan, Mexico from the Lighthouse.
Next stop: Yoopers
Yes, that’s right Yooper’s bar right in downtown Mazatlan. If you don’t know I grew up in Upper Peninsula of Michigan who are kindly referred to as UP’ers or better known as Yoopers. I went in there thinking it might look a bit like Deer Camp, and it did in a Mexican sort of way. Lot’s of Green Bay Packer paraphernalia and old photos of the owners in their younger days holding up trophy fish, deer or elk… I tell the bartender that I’m a Yooper. He’s not really sure what the hell I just said, but as I try to explain with my elaborate hand gestures I’ve mastered while down here in Mexico, he says “Oh yes, your from Michigan, Mucho Gusto” and then gives me a free bumper sticker. It’s not exactly what I was expecting, but I would imagine every Yooper who has ever come through those doors has tried to get a free beer here.
Old Downtown Mazatlan, Mexico
Next stop: Tourist Info
Better known as the Time Share Tourist Trap, but we’ve heard from our neighbor that some previous travelers at the park made the “Time Share” circuit and made $1,500 in a week. We got all the low down on what to say to get through the initial screening process and from there on just say “No.” We thought a couple hundred buck it would be worth slogging through their 90 minute sales pitch. Besides, we get a free breakfast, lunch and $200 US would pay for our gas back to the border. As we were walking out of the Yooper’s bar we came across one of these “Tourist Information” booths and the salesman instantly notices me checking out his glossy 8×10 photos. He immediately goes into his sales pitch about how great these places are and says he’ll throw in a free breakfast. I tell him “No way, we’re on vacation and it’s going to take a lot more than breakfast to get us to sit through that”. Well, he says “How about $100 US?” I said “each?” He says “Yes.” I ask him can he sweeten the deal any more? He says he can give us a $50 credit for food and drinks and that’s the best he can do. We sign up for a tour for the next day at 9:00am at the Emerald Bay Resort, which is just down the beach from where we’re staying. We would have walked, but one of the requirements is that we had to be staying at one of the hundreds of hotels in the area, but since we’re in an RV park we had to fib just a bit. (I had my fingers crossed) He tells me to just call a cab and the valet will reimburse the cab driver at the lobby when he drops us off. Perfect, maybe we should stay another week!
A deserted beach in Mazatlan, Mexico
The place looks just like a set from “Fantasy Island”. It’s gorgeous, complete with pink flamingos, Greek goddess statues, perfectly manicured lawns and crystal clear blue swimming pools every where you look. If you only have a week of vacation and more money than brains, this is the place for you. It will serve all of your needs, but it’s not going to be cheap. Our guide Esmeralda is a true pro and does her best to try to squeeze water (money) from a stone (my wallet), but she soon realizes we’re a waste of her time. But giving it her best she slices the price of the time share in half, and then in half again, but finally giving up in disgust she throws the cash voucher on the table and tells us to have a nice day. And we do, thanks to her. We walk back to the RV park along the beach against the recommendation of the front desk clerk who tells us it’s “Muey Peligroso.” Yeah, I guess with a pocket full of cash it is, but we’ve done this short little hike several times before without seeing so much as a foot print, so we enjoy our stroll back home along the deserted beach smiling all the way.
Mazatlan Bull Ring
Next stop: The Bull Fight
Some of my friends will definitely frown on this little excursion, but it’s something we would like to see. It’s not like we’re actually killing the poor beast and it’s going to happen weather or not we’re here, so “When in Rome.” The arena is a lot smaller than what I would have imagined and we can sit just about anywhere. The food and beer prices are cheaper than what you can find on the streets, bars or local mini supers, so all in all it’s a good deal. The show starts and there’s a long introduction and this being a Portuguese type bull fight the fighters are on horses. These pretty boys looks like a couple of major pricks with egos that barely fit into this small stadium, but what would you expect from someone who fights bulls for a living, making millions of dollars do so. Maybe, I’m just a bit jealous, because all the ladies seem to like these guys, but I’m sticking by my initial assessment until proven wrong. Aside from my prejudice of these guys, they really can ride. They’re not the best bull fighters according to the lack of applause from the crowd, and their failure to make a clean kill, but their riding skills make up for it.
Mazatlan Bull Fighter
Now for one of the more bizarre aspects of the show. There are about 8 guys who literally flip into the ring from the sidelines and they all line up in a single row separated by about 20′. The poor little fellow who drew the shortest straw marches proudly out to center ring, and yells loudly “Toro” to the bull who is still facing away from him. The little guy takes a couple more big brazen steps towards the bull and again loudly yells out “Toro”. This time the bull hears this and turns quickly to face him pawing the ground angrily. The little guy again takes a few more exaggerated steps towards him and yells out again “Toro”. This time the bull charges full steam towards him hitting him directly in the gut. The second guys quickly is hit and then the third, who is quickly swept under getting trampled and kicked in the face and groin along the way. The forth, fifth, sixth pile on trying desperately to stop this freight train of an angry bull. The last guy finally grabs hold of the bull’s tail and is being twirled around like a rag doll, but he gracefully holds on sliding through the dirt as if he’s weightless in one 360 degree circle after another until the bull gives up. He turns his back to the bull and takes a deep bow just a few feet in front of the breathless bull and then proudly exits the ring. It’s one of the craziest things I’ve ever witnessed.
Mazatlan Bull Fight
Then the bull takes on the second guy.
Then the 3rd guy gets hit
- Mazatlan Bull Fighters
and he goes down
- Mazatlan Bull Fighters
and under the bull.
- Mazatlan Bull Fighters
He’s probably thinking he should start looking for a new job.
- Mazatlan, Mexico Bull Fight
A desk job doesn’t sound so bad right about now.
- Mazatlan, Mexico Bull Fight
Looks like he gets kicked in the face.
- Mazatlan, Mexico Bull Fight
Where do I sign up for this?
- Mazatlan, Mexico Bull Fight
Wow, now that’s a show!
Thanks goes out to our neighbors Lorne, Bonnie and Loraine for sharing.
It’s the little things
24
Feb
As I was sipping my last drink of the night and desperately trying to soak in the last few fleeting days of freedom, aka vacation, I watch as our caretaker’s girls are called in for the evening. The 3 of them march diligently across the dirt courtyard into the house and just as the big black steel door is creaking shut, the youngest shyly peers her head around the door and sweetly waves to me, goodnight.
Soaking in the last few days
As I type this I try to think about all of the little things that make traveling so much fun. In the background I can hear a man singing at the construction site just next door. He is carrying a heavy load of bricks up three stories in the hot sun, but he has been singing every morning for the past week. He’s not all that good, but I enjoy listening and appreciate his enthusiasm. I can also hear the fisherman just off shore passing by in their panga, joking with each other and laughing loudly. I have no clue of what they’re saying, but when they all laugh loudly together I chuckle along with them. Just outside the gate I can hear children in the nearby town square chasing each other around and screaming with excitement, dogs barking in hot pursuit as to applaud their joy. It’s witnessing these different cultures, learning how and why they live the way they do, and to see how they utilize what they have available to make it all happen that makes traveling such an adventure for me. It may not be the most efficient, but it’s what they have and they make due.
Mexican Fisherman
Like the fisherman who was fishing next to me the next morning who’s made his own lure out of a piece of led and some glitter glued to a piece of old bicycle inner tube tied to a hook. He is hand lining it, but he’s casting his lure 2 times as far as I can with my brand new reel and 10 foot pole. We didn’t catch anything that day, but I’ve seen him come back with literally a hundred pounds of fish a few days later. I have yet to catch one that’s worth keeping.
Mexican Fisherman
As I travel throughout the West Coast of Mexico I try to be the American that we were so respected for in the past. Not the ugly Americans of today who repeats their English request, or more like orders, louder, slower and more pronounced so the Mexican who speaks no English can understand. If I hear “grassyass” one more time I think I’m going to break a bottle over their head. Don’t worry I usually have one in hand or nearby. So to put it into perspective lets turn the tables. If a Mexican came up to you asking questions in the states, speaking Spanish and you just shrugged your shoulders and said “no, I don’t understand.” Then this person gets in your face and repeats their request, but this time only closer, slower and louder, so you can magically understand. You’d think that person was insane, but yet I’ve seen this time and time again.
Typical Beach Scene
As an American witnessing such things it’s a major embarrassment to me as a fellow countrymen. Americans just don’t travel as much as the rest of the world and that’s another thing that should be a national disgrace, but it’s not. It’s almost considered shameful to be traveling in such a bad economy, and it’s always a bad economy, except for bankers, lawyers and stock brokers. In an effort to live up to this higher ideal I’ve thought about this ahead time and brought down extra items that not only could help us on our journey, but to give away these items to people who could use them the most. My first gift was an air pressure gauge to the gas station attendant in the middle of nowhere. I ask in my limited Spanish if he can check the air in a leaky front tire. He tells me no, he doesn’t have any way to check the pressure when I suddenly realize I had picked one up at Les Shwab for free right before we left, but it doesn’t go up high enough to my recommended tire pressure, so it was basically useless in our RV. I knew right where it was, so after paying the man for gas I presented the gift and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He immediately removes it to inspect it, and the look on this grown man’s face was like a kid on Christmas morning. He thanks me and then immediately shows it off to his co-workers as he waves goodbye.
The next gift was an extra set of jumper cables to one of our campground host who had to push start his car, because of an weak battery. Same sort of expression, but only after I showed him that I had a duplicate set. The next an extra roll of duct tape to the grounds keeper who I know could use it. His reaction was the typical back handed salute with a nob of the head in appreciation. The next an extra winter hat to the night security guard who was complaining about how cold it was and who’s face I’ve never completely seen, because I’ve only met him at night, but as we were pulling out of town he ran across the street waving to us unusually excited and pointed to my hat he was wearing in 80 degree heat. Again, he gave the back handed salute and head nod. I waved back once I realized it was him and could see him in the rear view waving until we were out of sight. And then an extra volleyball and nerf football to our neighbors who were collecting items for the local orphanage. I pretty sure it will be used as a soccer ball, but better than nothing. I can only imaging the joy it might bring to those kids who have nothing. Next a few extra steel fishing leaders to a local kid fishing nearby. A spare bike pump to man who runs a bike club for kids in the small fishing village were we stayed for two weeks. His family also serves the best Chili Renos in town.
One of the small fishing villages we stayed at.
Another gift was to offer my services as a photographer to the couple who were about to get married the next day. They didn’t have a photographer and since I didn’t have anything going on that afternoon I thought it would be fun. Also, I’ve always wondered if I could do it. I’ve always been pretty good at shooting portraits, but a wedding is a whole other beast. It was fun and the photos turned out great. They got married on the beach and the bride was delivered to the alter on a white horse led by her father. Later that evening we got invited to the reception dinner and I thought it would be a huge event with lots of people like a typical Mexican wedding, but we were the only non-family members invited. They were speaking German and Spanish, but threw in a few words in English so we didn’t feel too awkward. It was a real treat and I felt honored to attend. All together a great experience and I’m glad to know that I can do this wedding thing pretty well.
The Wedding
The Wedding
My biggest gift was a surgical kit I purchased at a g-sale that I thought I could re-sell, but had no luck in the 4 months I’ve tried, so I asked my biker buddy who I gave the pump to who could use it the most. He told me the free clinic could make the best use of it. They treat people from all over the neighboring villages and run only on donations. He went with me and translated my intentions to the nurse at the front desk. She probably has seen more blood, guts and pain than anyone I know, except for maybe a war veteran, but I could tell she was shocked when I opened it up on her desk. I think she was expecting me to then ask for money they didn’t have by the look on her face, but as I was walking out and saying my last goodbyes I turned back to take another look at her and she gave me a look with a tear in her eye.
The Wedding
I’ve also stopped to help two people who were hopelessly stuck in the sand on two separate occasion in the exact same place. The bridge near by has been washed away by sever flooding last fall, so locals try to make it around a nearly impossible bypass through deep sand and always get stuck. The first person I helped was a 350 lbs man in a very tiny car. The contrast was striking and I wish I had my camera handy, but it’s pretty easy to picture. His tiny little car was so buried his wheels were no longer touching the ground. I helped dig for a few minutes, but I could tell from previous experience it’s pointless. I ask him if he has a jack. He does, so we jack the car up and place wooden board from the nearby broken bridge to stick under the tires. He is out and on his way within ten minutes. The people watching this fiasco are stunned. The next person who was stuck in the exact same place a few days later had been desperately trying to get out and by the dark blue cloud of burning rubber hanging overhead I could pretty much tell he had given up thinking rationally. I offered to help and after a few minutes of digging and getting prior permission to drive, he was out of there. The trick I tell him is to dig out in front of the tires and pull forward, so you can get some momentum. “You are my hero” the young man says while I’m walking away. “Da Nada” I replied. He immediately pulls out a fresh fish from the back of his truck offering it up as a reward, but I tell him we’ve already have dinner waiting, but thank him for the offer.
I don’t mention these gifts because they’re significant, or I feel sorry for them, because that far from my intent. The Mexicans I’ve met on this trip are honest, hard working and friendly to a fault. They’re also very ingeniousness, happy and family orientated. One of my favorite days of the week is Sundays just to watch all of the families spend the entire day together. They laugh, eat and drink together for the entire day. It’s a joy to watch. I mention these things not because I think I’m a Saint or a do gooder, but to inspire and be the positive change I want to see in the world and that’s what it’s all about.
A typical Street Scene in the places we visited.
An international man of mystery
15
Feb
I’ve mentioned our little bike ride into the jungle in my last two posts, but as with all stories it doesn’t stop there. As we were riding home we came to the top of a cobblestone hill at the edge of town where a couple of young sunburned “kids” were coming out of a very nice rental house drinking beers. I ride by and say to the young man “I’ve heard they’re giving away free beer here.” He says “I wish.” This is when the salty old sea captain Darrin rounds the corner and starts into his canned sales pitch selling his sailboat tour. I ask him how much does it cost. Well, normally it cost $95, but for you, today I’ll give you the special friend’s price of $65 per person. I tell him we’re on a tight budget and don’t have that kind of cash. He immediately pulls out a ragged old brochure out of his back pocket that looks older than he does and tells me to e-mail him if we’re interested. I ask if he’s willing to make a trade. I tell him I have a spare fishing pole. He says it depends, but he’ll drop by to check it out the night before the departure. I tell him I can ask around to see if we can round up a few more folks to help differ the cost. He says “that’ll work.”
The Sailboat Ride
Darrin, a self described rich kid who wasted his inheritance and youth on wine, woman and drugs. Not in that order or limited to those categories… A man with a weathered and wrinkled face beyond his years from working on boats and smoking 3 packs a day. Darrin is a character for sure. A salty old dog I affectionately like to call characters like Darrin. He has many good stories to tell and has led an “interesting” life. A man who is staring at 60 with regrets of how his wealth and health could have been better well spent. A man with some troubles for sure, but considering the life he’s led he’s doing pretty well. Olivia Newton John’s husband who mysteriously disappeared was recently found working for Darrin on his sailboat, but to me it only adds credence to this international man of mystery.
The Sailboat Ride
Well, it’s Super Bowl Sunday and we’re invited to go to our next door neighbor’s party. They have a big 50″ LCD TV setup outside of their 5th wheel. They have beer, buffalo wings and snacks, so were psyched. Just like any good salesman Darrin shows up just as we were about to head over to the party. He takes one quick look at the fishing pole I have for trade and he say’s “yeah, yeah, that’ll do”. He tells me he can work “his magic” on some folks who are already liquored up. He convinces our neighbors Jack and Julie and one of their friends Kristin to join us.
The Sailboat Ride
Later that night someone steals my bike seat, and tries to steal Jen’s, but hers has an anti theft wire attached to the frame. The thieves gets away with my seat, our helmets and a spare set of pedals I was about to install for the next morning’s ride. The funny thing is that I heard someone outside, so I poked my head out the side window just to catch a glimpse of someone running away. There was no way in hell I’m going to chase someone down a dark street in my bare feet and underwear.
At a morning gathering of neighbors listening to one neighbor give a description of the thief she came face to face with when she peered out her window says he was a good looking kid about 20-23 years old with big curls in his dark brown shoulder length hair.
Our next door neighbors, the “rich kids” in their mid 30′s and living on daddy’s money immediately blurt out “That sounds like Darrin’s deckhand.” I bet you he was casing the place when he was here last night and sent over his deckhand to rob us. I talked to some of my friends around here and they say he’s a thief.”
First of all nothing of theirs was stolen, secondly the description our other neighbor gave looks like 95% of the young kids in this town. In a town this size rumors fly around faster and more often than the local birds. To accuse someone of theft IMHO is a very serious accusation and shouldn’t be said without proof beyond a reasonable doubt. They have none, zero, zilch, but are still willing to slander someone’s reputation over hearsay that doesn’t even remotely sound like the person in question. What’s even more bizarre is that Darrin gave them an all day sailboat trip for $10 per person with drinks and food and we all had a great time. We saw lots of humpback whales spitting distance away, blue footed boobies, and we went snorkeling through a cave to hidden white sand beach on a deserted island. The deckhand in question served them drinks, cleared away their mess and came back with more drinks when their glass was low without asking. What makes a person who was so generous to them turn around and call this guy a “Fucking scumbag and thief” without so much as a lick of proof. Kids nowadays have no respect.
In the middle of this morning’s gathering of RV park neighbors to hear what happened Julie starts yelling at me in a such a high pitch screech that all the dogs in the park start to howl. ”You invited him into our house, you invited him into my home!” I did no such thing. He came over and asked a few of your friends if they would like to go on an all day sailboat trip and those who went, they all had a great time.
The Sailboat Ride
Julie is a middle aged hypochondriac who needs to be the center of attention at all times. She always is fake coughing and complaining about some mysterious illness that’s going around. She seems to always be under the weather until it’s time to go out and then she all dolled up and ready to rock and roll. She seems like she is desperately holding on to her youthful good looks, but those days have long since past and maybe that’s why she is so smolderingly bitter.
The Sailboat Ride
Jack is a rich kid who grew up in La Jolla, CA. He’s got a bigger attitude than he jacked up monster truck. He’s been a bartender for the last two years running his father’s sports bar he’s run for the past 17 years into the ground. They just closed it and are looking for the next town to setup shop. Like any good bartender he has a quick smile and joke, but when he’s not serving you drinks you’re a nobody.
What bothers me most about these two is not that they’re rich, or that they didn’t earn their own money, but they’re spoiled brats. They play their music loud even when other neighbors have complained. It’s midnight and these two have been drinking and entertaining some old friends who look like they’re from the deep south with yellow teeth and red skin. The neighbor has a reasonable complaint, but I’ve heard him say in response “What’s their problem?” They just told you to turn it down or at least close your door, but oblivious you party on. Let’s just say they annoy me.
My next post will be much brighter I promise. I just get so pissed off at these “damn kids” now days, especially when their slanderous rumors are so unjustified and wrong, but what’s great about our little house on wheels is that we just move. OMG, I just realized that I sound exactly like my grandfather.
And the night continues
07
Feb
So after our exciting bike ride to the beach just north of Sayulita we came back to the RV, showered and we’re off to find ourselves some entertainment for the night. Our first stop are some $1.00 street side tacos. Next is 2×1 fresh squeezed margaritas, and then 6 piece Mexican reggae band with a sax and trombone makes for an fun filled evening. This is the latest we’ve stayed up in a long time. The town is hopping with sounds of music and laughter. There is loud conversations in several different languages happening within my circle of sound. It’s fun to people watch as they strut around looking for that something special that will make their night especial. Young girls in their very best “out on the town” dresses, some way too short for public display IMHO. Young Mexican boys in there silly fauxhawk hairdos trying their best to impress the young ladies. Children running around swinging from trees and chasing each other screeching like feral cats fighting. Older dudes with gray hair wearing young man’s clothes and army hats slightly tilted try their best with the ladies, but in my limited observations have not advanced much beyond their 18 year old competition. It’s a scene only to be seen late at night while enjoying my margarita at the edge of the town square.
We make the most of the night listening to some great music perched high above the band on a 3rd floor of Don Pedro’s bar in Sayulita, Mexico. I make the mistake of making a move on the chessboard that the bartender has setup as I order another cold one and he immediately counters my move and it’s game on. Silly me, I should know better than to challenge a person who basically gets paid to play chess and serves a few beers on the side. I make a good go of it considering my state of mind, but he clobbers me within 10 minutes. I saddle up to a good spot to view the band from above and see the bar tender makes quick work of one victim after another.
We stop off at a road side taco vendor for a late night snack when a couple of rich folks who obviously just flew in from the states cut in line in front of us holding out their plates like hungry beggars asking for more. I’m not offended at all, since they’re so drunk and in desperate need of food that their brains can think of nothing else and I can empathize. They’re definitely out of place here in there clean, pressed designer clothes, polished shoes and expensive jewelry. The middle aged woman is tall slender and giving me such a look like I’m next on the menu. I back away slowly. Her companion looks like Paul McCartney’s early mod days, but not in a good way. He has very distinctive British teeth and smells of cigarettes and stale beer.
Ah, it’s just another night on the town in a foreign country.
I saw nothing!
04
Feb
We just got caught breaking one of those warnings I’ve heard so many times before “Just don’t get caught seeing something you should have seen” and you will not have any problems in Mexico.
OK, this is a post that I don’t want to get back to my already worried grandmother, but on today’s bike ride to a deserted beach just outside of town we came across a low-rider pickup truck full of 6 men in a deep ravine of a dark jungle just outside of Sayulita, Mexico. One guy with shades on holding several large pit bulls is shocked to see me barreling towards him on my mountain bike, just as I see a guy with two rifles with scopes running out of the jungle followed quickly by a guy with something large wrapped in a blanket tucked under his arm right behind. I give the guy my most innocent “hola” and ride past looking straight ahead as if I saw nothing!
I ride on hoping not to hear that unmistakable sound of click, click of the cocking of those rifles just as Jen rides past, oblivious to the whole thing.
Lesson learned: smile, act dumb and don’t do drugs… =^ )
Sayulita, Mexico
04
Feb
It’s been about 15 years ago almost to the day that we were here last. Back then it was a “one horse” tiny little town, but no longer. It’s been discovered and the town has boomed, but it seems to have retained much of its original small town feel. We pull into town and get a couple people pointing and laughing at our bull horns I’ve recently mounted where the Ford emblem once was, and the smiles become contagious amongst many of the pedestrians who give us a passing glance. The town is filled with gringos, but there’s a good vibe to it, cause they’re not your typical tourist. They’re the kind of people that seek out these types of places, so they add their own character and style to the scene.
Well after a quick look around we find Sayulita Trailer Park and pull into a nice wide shady spot. After quickly hooking up the water, power and sewer lines I go to find the password for the wifi. I’m told I need to go over to the owner’s house where I’m met by Thaeis and his wife Christina. Thaeis tells me it will be just a few minutes while his wife is cooking dinner and she handles all the high tech stuff. He then asks if I would like a sip of tequila and a cigarette. He says he only has 2 or 3 a day. I say sure. I usually like to have one myself after a stressful drive on shoulder less, twisty, turny Mexican hiways . He tells me he buys this stuff by the gallon from the maker. It’s really smooth and has a rich smokey after taste. Thaeis has been running this place for 26 years and really knows how to make a person feel welcome. Thaeis looks, sounds and acts like the cliche of what you think of a 77 year old Bavarian man would be. He has silver hair with a large handle bar mustache and wears suspenders and still speaks in a thick German accent. He runs the place with German like precision and his ingenuity is apparent by just a quick look around, but even more amazing once you notice the details of his engineering feats. Like any good artist he tells me he can see the flaws, but as an outside observer I can only admire his work of art. I see him roaming the place like a man that’s getting things done, but with a style and humor only someone who has been doing this for nearly 3 decades can. He speaks fluent Spanish and his help seems perfectly content, so I can tell he treats people fair. He also has a good sense of humor and is quick with a smile or witty comment.
Returning to the scene of the crime
01
Feb
Well, a couple posts back I told you about our long trek through a thick, dark, bug infested jungle and passing through a gate that read “Private Property”, but I have since learned that we weren’t actually trespassing, so no crime was committed.
We had so much fun yesterday that we decided to go back, but this time to hike the entire beach to the farthest point south which is barely visible from our vantage point of Punta Raza. We also found out from Louie that this pristine beach is slated to become the next Cancun. Currently it’s a turtle sanctuary, but the Mexican government has 4 mega projects slated to turn desolate beaches into new Cancun style mega resorts. Ugh, what a tragedy. More about that soon.
We got going at 10:00 am after a good morning breakfast and coffee. We take the same route that we took the day before on the way out, but tried a new route on the way home, which was so much nicer.
Well we got to the beach, but there were no dolphins, whales or manta rays jumping this time, but the beach is just as gloriously deserted as the day before. We walk for more than an hour on this 30′ tall Velodrome sloped beach with 10′ waves breaking just off shore. The sound can be intimidatingly loud, but the peaceful beach, hot sun and vividly blue sky mellows it all out.
We do not see anyone the entire 2 miles, until right at the very end we meet Louie and his Basset hound who is from France and has been coming down here for the last 22 years. He has a house just around the point. I tell him it doesn’t look like things have changed much in the past 22 years, since there isn’t a structure in sight. He says “There has been lots of change and none of it for the better.” I stand corrected. Anyway on our little walk with Louie he show us where a turtle had laid her eggs the night before The tracks are very clear and what you would imagine turtle tracks look like. Louie I can tell is still somewhat upset about the mega resort project and I can see why. This place will absolutely be ruined and it’s a sad thought to think of this place swarming with fat white guys with their beer bellies so big they look like they’re 9 months pregnant. Believe me; we’ve just hiked here through a thick, dark, bug infested jungle to get away from that.
Anyway, enough about the stupidity of man and more about the bravery of man. On our hike home I was dreading the boring ravine infested road home and that’s when I noticed that the old trail crosses the new road, so we opt to give it a try even though we have to crawl from the first 10 feet under a fallen tree. I go and take a peek and yes it looks promising, so we give it a try. I doesn’t look like anyone has hike this in years, but the trail is still not too overgrown. I can picture Mayan Indians hiking this trail a thousand years earlier and right around the next corner I’m going to find a long lost Mayan temple.
A long trek through the dark jungle
30
Jan
Following some vague directions from our neighbors Jen and I set out to find a hidden beach several miles through a thick dark jungle. We find the trail that’s behind a weather sign saying “propiedad privada” and go through the barbed wire gate. It’s a pretty established path, so I feel like we’re on the right track. We follow it to a newly grated road that reminds me of a scence out of Avatar, where it just seems so wrong to have road torn through such pristine nature. There is another sign that is decidedly ambigious pointing halfway in between the new road and the jungle. I cannot see a path through the jungle so we head down the road. Within a half mile the road splits, so we take the one that looks more established. We’re soon greated by another barded wire fence, but this one doesn’t have a gate, so we turn back and take a right at the fork. There is a lot of cow patties around and I’m hoping we don’t come across an angry bull. We continue on through steep ravines where one unlucky cow was unable to climb back out. After a couple more ravines we can now hear the crash of pounding surf in the far off distance.
At the edge of one last ravine we’re startled by something crashing down through the palm tree within a few feet of us, but I have my walking stick at the ready to smash whatever might appear out of the brush. Luckily, it’s a “Coatimundi” a racoon looking creature with a long ringed tail that makes a quick getaway. We come to a trail that looks promising, so we take it and are next greated by an Armadillo rooting through the leaves and thin, dry underbrush. He doesn’t seem too concerned about our presence, but as soon as I get my camera out he decides to make a run for it. I get a couple good snaps of him as he disappers into the now thinning jungle. We finally go through a natural gate of thick green broad leafed stout trees which gaurding a dramatically large, deserted beach with big 10′ crashing surf. There is a rocky point just to the North and a 2+ mile long steeply sloped blonde sand beach to the South. We decide to go North, since there looks like there could be some interesting hidden coves just around the point. As soon as we climb over the first rocky point we see a pod of dolfins feeding very close to shore. As soon as we get to a good view point they start leaping out of the water like crazy. Sometimes 3 or 4 at a time. They’re leaping 15′ or more out of the water in perfectly arched dives like you’ve seen on Flipper, Sea World or some nature show. Once again as soon as I get my camera out the show stops almost immediately, but I think I might have got one or two good snaps.
The show doesn’t stop there. As we look a little farther off the coast we can see whales doing their best to leap out of the water, but are definetly not as graceful as the dolfins, but a good show nonetheless given their mass. And not wanting to be left out of the act several manta rays are doing flips just to stage left.
All in all a very good reward for a eight mile hike. We return to our beach and grab a cold cervaza and walk the few feet down to the beach to watch the sunset. Ah, another good day on the road.