out of my routine

And sometimes we simply do what I could do every day – but don’t.


When I chose a place to live in Mexico, I insisted that it be on the ocean.  Not just water.  No lakes.  The ocean.


Almost all of my life, I lived within an hour or so of the beach.  I didn’t go often.  But the times I did are some of my favorite memories.  And we all know that my dog Jiggs thought the beach was better than French bread.


For the first seven months I lived in Villa Obregon, I started and ended every day sitting and enjoying the bay and the beach -- even though I seldom went in the water.


When I moved inland four blocks, I often didn’t see the beach for weeks.  And I have not been in the ocean for well over a year.


Brian and Holden love the ocean.  They have spent a good deal of time in tropical climates on the beach.  They snorkel.  They swim.  They do the things I often talk about, but seldom do.


So, we made today a beach day.  First, in Melaque battling waves that can quickly introduce you to the sand (as I discovered to my cost twice) and then at the almost-Caribbean beach at Cuastecomate.  (I say “almost,” because the recent wave action has made the water too murky to snorkel.)


While in Cuastecomate, I had a great meal of octopus and shrimp in a hot sauce.  Either the meal or the sun or the 5 gallons of salt water I swallowed during the day had a rather bad effect on my digestive system.

 

But that was to come later.  The house where Brian and Holden are staying has a very nice view of the beach.  We decided to spend a couple of hours before dinner just sitting and enjoying the beach. 


And, of course, having the types of conversations with friends we always say we wish we had time to do.  Well, we did have the time, and we did.

 

We scurried over to Barra just in time to walk through one of our downpours – and to have an indifferent meal at one of Barra’s landmark tourist restaurants.  The thunder and light show were simply a bonus.


So, I am off to bed to get some rest and restore some liquids.  Thursday will be either a day in the mountains or a quick trip to Cuyutlán.


No agenda.  Just good times with good friends.

stairway to change

One of my favorite local trips is to the seldom-visited playa de oro -- northwest of Manzanillo.


You may remember it from my January visit (gold on the beach).  The hypnotically long beach that is unsafe for swimmers -- as well as boats.  As the Golden Gate discovered in 1862 when a fire broke out in its engine room and the ship (with a large shipment of gold -- thus the name of the beach) sank into oblivion.  And into local myth.


I thought Brian and Holden would like to see a beautiful beach that wears its legends stoically.  And to see a place I consider emblematic of many Mexican dreams.

 

If you did not know better, you could easily be confused by a sign on Highway 200 directing drivers to playa de oro.  Next to the sign is one of those blue and white international signs indicating a hotel can be found 7 kilometers down a now-deteriorated cobblestone road.


The sign does not lie.  There is a hotel.  Or what is left of one.  Holden is standing on the remains of a spiral staircase that no longer draws guests to their rooms with a view.


The hotel and a few derelict houses are what is left of a dream that began almost two decades ago.  Now, the hotel and the houses are merely crypts for nightmares and lost investments.  Unfortunately, the Pacific coast from Manzanillo to Puerto Vallarta is strewn with these development cemeteries.


But the beach is still as wild as the day the Golden Gate gave up its shiply life.  Brian and I stood and watched the waves wash in.  The very waves that claimed a lot of lives on that ship -- within swimming distance of shore.  Just like the vagaries of economic cycles.

At dinner, we kept up the philosophical musings.  As I mentioned earlier, Leticia -- Brian’s wife, Holden’s mother -- died just a year ago.  We sat and talked about what she had added to all of our lives.  Obviously, far more to theirs than to mine. 


But the brief time I knew her, she became a part of who I am.  The Bible translation (The Complete Jewish Bible) I still read was a recommendation from her.  As is my desire to speak Spanish -- a language she knew intimately through her mother.  (And a language that Holden is using handily on this trip.)


It was one of those reminders that being an acquaintance, a buddy, a friend is a big responsibility.  The people’s lives we touch are always changed.  And we hope that what we leave behind will be a change for the better.


In Leticia’s case, that was certainly true for me -- just as knowing Brian and Holden has been.

walking through my day

I am surprised how difficult it is to show guests everyday Melaque.  And the reason is simple; I don’t have guests every day.


But I do some things often enough around here that it makes sense to share those experiences with them.


Rather than give them the experience of standing in line to pay my Telmex bill, I let them sleep in.  Now, I wish they could have been there to see how efficiently Mexican bureaucracy can work.


I have not yet received my bill for July – even though the due date is at the end of this week.  My landlady told me all I needed was last month’s bill for reference.  I also wanted to pay a month in advance to cover the period I will be in Pátzcuaro.  That seemed to me to be the potential bureaucratic mine field.


I was wrong.  There was no long line – even though it was Monday.  The young woman behind the desk took my old bill and my 1200 pesos, and I was on my way in less than three minutes.


From time to time, I need to relearn the lesson that what we expect will be a problem, won’t; what we think will be easy, won’t.


I stopped by the rental to pick up Brian and Holden – and we were off to experience another episode of What Steve Does at the Beach.


The first stop was the Indian school (where I do some volunteer work) and the grade school (where the church donated a building).  Both in the small village of Villa Pinal (the home of blogger Sparks).  The school year is over for both schools.  But I was able to show them the facilities.


We were then off to the village that originally drew me to Mexico – La Manzanilla.  Where the beach is the major draw.  The photograph at the top of the post is typical of bucolic La Manzanilla.  It does not have much infrastructure.  But it has enough atmosphere to lay off some on Pittsburgh.

 

But beaches and bicycles are not the only draw.  Some interests are far more primordial.  Lots of tourists come to La Manzanilla to watch one of nature’s perfect killing machines – crocodiles.


Unfortunately, what was once a natural area where tourist legs brushed reptilian jaws is now the equivalent of a natural zoo.  Fences and walkways separate the hunters from potential prey.  Though, at least one dock, offers some rather up close and personal views of crocodiles that may not be the size of a Buick, but they could certainly give a Prius a run for the money.


While we were there, I showed them several houses that interested me when I first came to Mexico.  And I did the same in Barra de Navidad in the evening.


Melaque and Barra de Navidad have completely different feels even though they share the same bay.  Barra (at least the neighborhood where most expatriates and middle class Mexicans live) do not have Melaque’s funky beach town feel.  Barra is definitely a beach tourist town.  But its residential area is far more orderly than my neighborhood in Villa Obregon.


We had dinner at one of my favorite Mexican eateries.  These are the moments that form the rings in any friendship.  Good food.  Better conversation.  And stunning views.  Tonight we got one of our local sunsets known as Melaque Yellow.


Tomorrow, we are playing it by ear.  Whatever we do, it is going to be both relaxing and fun.

the sun always sets

For about a year, I have been planning a blog project.  I want to drive north from Barra de Navidad to Puerto Vallarta and stay one night in each of the luxury hotels along the way.


It would get me out of the house and give me some interesting tales to relate.


Well, it was a good idea until I started penciling out a budget.  I now know why travel writer’s accept Caesar’s coin before writing those lavish praise pieces.  It may be some time before that idea gets beyond the concept stage.


In fact, I had never even stepped foot in the hotel that would kick off the trip – the Grand Bay Hotel on Isla Navidad, just across the bay from Barra de Navidad.


It is impossible to miss the place if you visit this area.  It sits perched above the bay like some Kubla Khan-ordained Xanadu.  But whether or not it is a “stately pleasure dome,” I had no idea.  Until Sunday.


So far, I have shown Brian and Holden what a regular day is like in Melaque.  On Sunday, that means church services followed by lunch at some local eatery.


So, we were off to one of our informal worship services.  This week there were thirteen of us.  And seven decided to head off to lunch.  Including us.


But the spot was new for me.  We drove over to the Grand Bay Hotel.  It is hard not to compare the rather ragged roads and houses on the outside of the gated property with what lies inside.  On the inside, well-maintained roads wind through a golf course that would have pleased Charles Foster Kane. 


And the hotel itself with its yacht-studded marina perfectly completed the picture.  That is it at the top of the post – as seen from Barra.


I then introduced Brian and Holden to one of my favorite places.  The mirador overlooking Melaque and the Pacific Ocean.  In the week since I was last there, it has greened up with our summer rains.


Then, a real Sunday tradition.  I gave them a couple hours to relax at their pool while I headed off to take a siesta (that just did not happen).  We were then off to dinner.  Does there appear to be a theme there?


I wanted them to experience one of Melaque’s nicer beach restaurants – where the food does a passable job of matching the view.


And to give them a chance to experience one of Melaque’s best attractions – the sunset.  Sunday was a particularly nice show with its reverse sunset turning the sea into that delightful pink tinge I have noticed in my garden during summer evenings.

 

When they arrived, I told Brian and Holden I had no set agenda.  We would do whatever the day seemed to lead us to do.  So far, that has worked out.


I just hope the day leads us to a nice snorkel trip before they return to Los Angeles.

cheating fate

If I were a superstitious man, I would have stayed home on Saturday.


Any Roman augur would not have needed to dig elbow deep through goat entrails to see something was amiss in the morning. 


It was right there on my screen door.  Fifteen scuttling crabs.  (Most of which had skedaddled by the time I grabbed my camera.)  Now, that is quite a sight to get your day going.


But, I am not a superstitious man.  I am a child of the Enlightenment.  Those crabs were not carrying bad news in their mismatched claws.  They were simply hunting for a mate before the rains get too heavy and drown the lot.


It was only a bit disconcerting.  Because this was a special day.  So far, I have had only two sets of friends come visit me in Melaque.  And the third set were arriving Saturday afternoon.


Brian Saunders was the second Salvation Army officer at the church I attended in Salem.  (Not in some “second officer” Navy sense.  After all this is the Army.  He was the second person to hold that position.)  He and his wife, Leticia, were my pastors.


Brian was (and is) an incredibly gifted teacher.  He is one of the few pastors who has intellectually challenged me.  And Leticia was responsible for introducing me to my favorite Bible translation -- The Complete Jewish Bible.  They have both added pieces to the creation that is me.


I told you of Leticia’s death and my strange experience while in the hospital – just over a year ago.  When she died, I opened my home to Brian and their son, Holden.  But circumstances prevented their visit.  Until Saturday.


I love taking people to and from the Manzanillo airport.  Every time I leave the terminal, I feel as if I am getting a new start here in Melaque.  It was doubly special to meet Brian and Holden there.  Because I have been anticipating this week for over a year.


After letting them settle in, we walked over to the Red Lobster (not the American chain; this Red Lobster sells good food) for shrimp dinners.  For over two hours, we sat, and dined, and reminisced, and laughed.  It was exactly the type of moment I had been visualizing.  There are very few things in this world as fulfilling as good dining companions.


But the weather was not patient with us.  While we were eating, a mild thunderstorm moved in and left us with the choice of camping in the Red Lobster or walking through the rain.  We chose the latter.


The rain, as always, was a relief.  All day the temperature had been climbing along with the humidity.  But the moment the rain started, the temperature dived into the 70s.  And, even though I was drenched to the bone, the cool felt -- well, cool.  I am glad Brian and Holden will have a bit of relief from the weather I tolerate.    


As I write this late on Saturday night, the rain has been falling for several hours.  And the corpses of little crabs float like sculling shells on the River Styx.


Dating can be the cruelest of all sports.

a last fling in the highlands

There is a place where well-laid plans happen just as they should -- a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.


And that place certainly is nowhere near me.


Friday morning I had planned to be driving away from the casita between 6 and 6:30.  When I opened the driver’s door of the truck, it looked as if someone had dumped a bag of trash in the driver’s seat.


At first, I was a bit annoyed.  Then I recognized the trash.  It was mine -- from the console compartment.  Apparently, someone had been doing a bit of early Christmas shopping.


And the swag was a bit eccentric.

• My high-quality, cold weather sleeping bag for sailing.
  
• Used jumper cables given to me by Lou when my last set was lifted.
• A flashlight I bought after searching for several months.
• A transformer for using my computer with truck battery power -- a gift from my brother.
• The windshield mount power adapter for my GPS.

And I thoughtfully provided the swag bag.  I left a garbage bag in the truck -- the covering for my one-day power window failure.  It must have been handy to dump all of the items in -- and be off like Saint Nick’s not-so-saintly twin.


OK.  The obvious next question is how did this all happen?  I am almost positive I locked the truck when I transferred groceries on Tuesday night -- the last time I drove the car.


But there were no signs of forced entry.  I guess that leaves the open door of opportunity as the best theory.


The good thing is that everything can be replaced (with a bit of work) or I can do without it.  In the end, it was inconvenient, but nothing more.


I put the “do without” theory to the test as I drove away.  I used by GPS on the drive over.  And, as is often the case when relying on technology, I did not really pay attention to how I got to San Miguel.  Nor did I know how to get out.


So, I stated driving down the hill.  I came to what looked like a main road with lots of buses and followed them.  Eventually, I ended up on the road to Dolores Hidalgo.  At least, I knew where that was.


And then I noticed another item that had been stolen.  What had been a quarter-full tank on Tuesday was now an almost empty tank.  It appeared I was siphoned.


Rather than do the cautious thing, I pressed on for several miles with my fuel indicator light reminding me of my stupidity.  And I eventually found a Pemex station before I had to do my impression of Claudette Colbert.


Even the drive back offered a bit of adventure.  About 15 miles outside of Guadalajara, cars started driving toward us on the shoulder of the toll road.  There was a wreck up ahead.  And, in true practical Mexican fashion, drivers were turning around to head down the free road, instead of the toll road.


Then outside of Colima there was another accident that blocked traffic heading down the mountains.  This time, there was nothing to do but wait.  John Calypso has blogged about several long waits on Mexican highways.  For me, the first was no wait at all, and the second was only about a half hour.


But I made it back to Melaque.  Somewhere around Colima I could feel the heat radiating through the truck’s body.  Stepping out of the truck at home was like entering a sauna.  And it felt good –--at first.  The warmth almost immediately restored the mobility in my hands I had lost in San Miguel.  The cost, of course, was the humidity.


I am looking forward to the arrival of my guests on Saturday afternoon.  And then I will be off for several weeks more of highland adventures.

sundown in san miguel -- for now

Time can be as deceptive as memory.


In one sense, I feel as if I have just arrived in San Miguel.  In another, as if I have lived here for years.


Part of that, I think, is the concerted and concentrated activity we indulge in when visiting new places.  We feel as if we must do and go and see.  Until we lose contact with our surroundings.


Thursday was my last day in San Miguel for about ten days.  Rather than rush around trying to pull together the loose ends I have not yet experienced, I decided to laze around the casita -- as if it were my home.  I ate.  I read.  I simply relaxed.


Then Babs and I topped off the day with a visit to the Longhorn Smokehouse -- a local gathering place of expatriates and Mexicans.  Thursday is steak special night -- filet mignon, baked potato with the full dress-up, garlic bread, and a simple salad.  It came highly recommended by Tancho and Jennifer Rose. 


I can safely say it was the best steak I have had in Mexico.  It was not Morton’s, but I didn’t leave behind a hundred bucks, either.


When I returned to the casita, I found this interesting view out my window just after the sun went down.  No dramatic sunset tonight.  Just a subtle slip out the door.


Friday morning around 6 or so, I will be doing the same thing.  Traveling from the highlands to my tropical beach for a week with friends.


But anything I did not get done today (or in the past week), I will still be able to do in about ten more days.  Because I still have two more weeks in San Miguel before July is done.


And I can then post a couple of topics I have not yet dared touch.