Taking a cue from Islagringo, I have decided to do what I can to help the local economy.
Melaque has never reaped the financial cream from the tourist trade. It could never pass for Cancun -- or even, Puerto Vallarta.
It is just one of those towns on the beach where inlanders drop in every now and then. In Britain, it would be Blackpool. In New Jersey, it would be pre-Trump Atlantic City. In Oregon, probably Seaside.
The tourist trade folks could make a peso here, but they would never gather enough Juarezes to pull an Alamo on Carlos Slim.
Like everywhere in turista Mexico, Melaque is ailing. The beaches and streets often look like something out of the Twilight Zone.
No tourists means that local merchants are hurting.
I do not have a lot of pesos to spread around, but I have decided I will eat at least one meal a day on the local economy. It is not much, but it is money I would not otherwise be spending.
I had a great hoisin chicken marinating in the refrigerator on Wednesday evening. Rather than cook it up, I had dinner at a new Japanese-Chinese restaurant in town.
And the place was just as advertised. I had a huge portion of shrimp-beef-chicken stir fry -- heavy on the vegetables, just as I like it. I have learned that the zucchini here is delicious, just as a number of you have said.
On the way back to the house, I noticed I had wandered into the neighborhood I saw on my first visit to Melaque a year ago. Back then, I knew the commercial center was supposed to be nearby. But everywhere I looked, I saw residences.
That got me to thinking about such cities as London and Paris. With the exception of the tropical ambience, Melaque must look very similar to both of those urban giants as they were growing up. Little residences crammed together on dusty, cobbled streets.
Why do some villages grow into giants while others remain urban dwarfs their entire lives?
I suspect I started down this philosophical path because today is the day I pick up Jiggs from the veterinarian in Manzanillo. Or, just as importantly, it is the day I discover the truth about Jiggs's tumor on his abdomen, and what we are going to do about it.
I am probably no better qualified to answer that question than I am to discuss why Melaque will always be a small village by the sea constantly concerned about where its next meal is going to come from.
So, I will do what I have done all my life. I will pray, and then I will make a decision and live with it -- knowing that a lot of you out there are pulling for both Jiggs and me.
Just as I am pulling for this little village I am learning to love.
Melaque has never reaped the financial cream from the tourist trade. It could never pass for Cancun -- or even, Puerto Vallarta.
It is just one of those towns on the beach where inlanders drop in every now and then. In Britain, it would be Blackpool. In New Jersey, it would be pre-Trump Atlantic City. In Oregon, probably Seaside.
The tourist trade folks could make a peso here, but they would never gather enough Juarezes to pull an Alamo on Carlos Slim.
Like everywhere in turista Mexico, Melaque is ailing. The beaches and streets often look like something out of the Twilight Zone.
No tourists means that local merchants are hurting.
I do not have a lot of pesos to spread around, but I have decided I will eat at least one meal a day on the local economy. It is not much, but it is money I would not otherwise be spending.
I had a great hoisin chicken marinating in the refrigerator on Wednesday evening. Rather than cook it up, I had dinner at a new Japanese-Chinese restaurant in town.
And the place was just as advertised. I had a huge portion of shrimp-beef-chicken stir fry -- heavy on the vegetables, just as I like it. I have learned that the zucchini here is delicious, just as a number of you have said.
On the way back to the house, I noticed I had wandered into the neighborhood I saw on my first visit to Melaque a year ago. Back then, I knew the commercial center was supposed to be nearby. But everywhere I looked, I saw residences.
That got me to thinking about such cities as London and Paris. With the exception of the tropical ambience, Melaque must look very similar to both of those urban giants as they were growing up. Little residences crammed together on dusty, cobbled streets.
Why do some villages grow into giants while others remain urban dwarfs their entire lives?
I suspect I started down this philosophical path because today is the day I pick up Jiggs from the veterinarian in Manzanillo. Or, just as importantly, it is the day I discover the truth about Jiggs's tumor on his abdomen, and what we are going to do about it.
I am probably no better qualified to answer that question than I am to discuss why Melaque will always be a small village by the sea constantly concerned about where its next meal is going to come from.
So, I will do what I have done all my life. I will pray, and then I will make a decision and live with it -- knowing that a lot of you out there are pulling for both Jiggs and me.
Just as I am pulling for this little village I am learning to love.
