Thursday, February 12, 2015

Vallarta "highlands" house-hunting

FEBRUARY 10, 2015 TUESDAY

Hunting for an apartment began with a short walk over a foot bridge to the Sayulita Bus stop where buses run every 20 (Mexican minutes).  I waited 45 before I finally hopped aboard an air-conditioned, comfortable ride.  Along with the designated stops, the drivers graciously pick up anyone on the road who waves a hand.  Just out of Sayulita, on a rather main highway, we stopped dead to pick up a backpacker donning some hefty dreadlocks, an over-sized tie-dyed backpack, and a camouflaged duffle bag.  Then we had to wait for him to rifle through his belongings for the appropriate amount of pesos - 35.  Onward and downward, we wound through the lush jungle toward more populous towns, until, after about an hour and a half, I reached my destination, Walmart!

Walmart is the hub of transportation, besides the main bus terminal near the airport, across from the Modelo beer factory.  Crossing the busy, convoluted Highway 200, I caught a blue bus to El Centro, where I met up with friend, Trenie, at McDonald’s on the Malecon (concrete boardwalk lined with shops, clubs, restaurants and tourists).

We spent the day climbing steep hills in a neighborhood called Cinco de Diciembre (sink-oh day - dee-see-em-bray - - roll the “r”).  This neighborhood, like many others, as well as streets, is named after a significant event or person. In 1985 the United Nations General Assembly enacted the December 5 as International Volunteer Day (IVD) for Economic and Social Development.  More interestingly, in my search for the meaning of this notorious day, I discovered that there is a town of the same name in Soto la Marina in the state of Tamaulipas that is 120 square meters, and has four inhabitants!!!  Now that’s a tidbit!

We ventured a few short, but steep, blocks to Trenie’s place on Bolivia and Chile streets.  At first glance, the iron gate and somewhat unkempt entryway appeared a bit foreboding, but once inside her freshly painted canary yellow cottage, a refreshing cross breeze and a stunning view of the Bay of Banderas make this a welcoming and comfortable abode.Here's her view!


I answered a few emails and got directions to a few apartments, the insides of which I will see next week.  We trekked to 3 of them, sneaking into a private gated condo on the beach, and praying that this one will be in my meager price range of no more than 7500 pesos. ($503 today).  We will return Monday to meet the property manager.  Fingers crossed!

I led Trenie back up the hill, just three blocks from her place, to Barcelona Tapas, one of my favorite spots to eat and to view.  Perched high above the city, it touts authentic Spanish cuisine, sangria, and an ambience and staff that lure you to linger for hours.

After three flights of stairs, dotted with vibrant potted plants and flowers, patrons are greeted with delicious, homemade warm bread, olives, and the most amazing garlic potato salad I’ve ever had. Dipping our bread into chili-infused olive oil, sipping our sweet red Sangria (white is available too), we waited blissfully for our Spanish tortilla, an egg and potato pie (Spain is big on potatoes), and a beet and goat cheese stack sitting in garlic aoli and a pesto oil to die for. Trenie, a “Barcelona Tapas virgin,” has already decided to bring her April guests here.  It is indeed a treat.


I must have left El Centro during rush hour, because it took a total of two hours to get from there to Walmart, and home to Sayulita. I saw a sign along the way as we passed through Bucerias (a town whose name means “the place of scuba diving).  The sign read:  El mundo no va a cambia con su opinion o con tv ejemplo! Roughly translated:  The world is not going to change because of your opinion or with the example we see on TV.  Good sign.


I walked the footbridge back, a bit nervous, as I held my iPhone flashlight on the path before me.  Feet sore, hips aching, I took a soothing bath in Debi and Pancho’s over-sized tub in my loft. Once divested of the thin veil of fine dust that seemed to drape my body and permeate my skin, I easily drifted off to dreamland, falling asleep to visions of myself in a quaint Mexican casita, surrounded by a few friends, sipping Sangria.

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