an even better friday

It is Good Friday.  Both on the liturgical calendar -- and on the local business calendar.

In fact, it has been a very good week for the businesses in Melaque.  Semana santa always brings lots of highlanders to town.  But this year has been particularly good.

Melaque gets its Easter trade mainly from the Guadalajara area.  The middle class tends to book into Puerto Vallarta -- with all of its resort conveniences.

Not so the working poor.  They come to Melaque.  Every country seems to have these little class distinctions -- usually based on income.  In England, the working poor go to Blackpool.  In Oregon, to Lincoln City.

The fear was that Easter would come too late in the year to attract the Tapatios to the beach.  The received wisdom is that the big attraction at the beach is getting sweaty -- and the heat wave had already started in Guadalajara.


That fear was far too rational.  Most people come to the beach during semana santa because that is what you do.  Not going to the beach during semana santa would be like attending Notre Dame and skipping spring break in Daytona Beach.


And come they have.

 

Last week I had breakfast on the beach and took a photograph of what the beach looked like that particular morning.


Melaque makes a good deal of its living off of tourists.  It is certainly not a traditional Mexican town.  We leave the cultural color to those faded colonial beauties in the mountains.  This is Ferengi territory.  There are pesos to be transferred from those willing to spend to those willing to serve.


We have two tourist seasons here.  The first starts around mid-November and peters out in late March. 


It is the season of old white people.  There may be politer ways to say that.  But it is the truth.  Most of the tourists we see in town during those months look as if a Viking ship of casually-dressed senior Norwegians had grounded on the beach.


The local merchants know their stuff.  Out come the Canadian and the American flags to let baffled northerners know that if they eat at a flag-bedecked restaurant, they will not be embarrassed if they do not know their huevos from their pantimedias. 


Waiters and clerks are all smiles -- as pesos are tucked away.

There is then a late spring lull until the Mexican tourists arrive for semana santa.  Under the counter go the Canadian and American flags faster than you can say Parisian collaborationist.  And up goes the red, white, and green of the national colors.

Waiters and clerks are all smiles -- as pesos are tucked away.


The Mexican merchants I know practice a form of utilitarianism that would make Jeremy Bentham proud.  They are in the business of pleasing people.


They can put up with out-of-towners taking all the parking places, walking in the middle of the street, treating them as hired help, walking around without shirts in public, and getting as drunk as a frat boy following finals.


The fact that old white tourists act almost exactly as younger brown tourists makes no difference to them.  After all, they are in the serving business.


This has been a good week, as I said earlier.  I stopped by my breakfast restaurant this afternoon and snapped off this shot of the beach today.  It looks like a successful season to me.