Adios Sayulita!

FEBRUARY 13, 2015

Adios Sayulita - for now!  My last day there, I spent mostly back at “the office,” Choco Banana.   Deb and friends went into Vallarta to run errands, while I stayed behind.  I had a yummy Huevos a la Mexicana breakfast for five bucks, and sat for hours working, people-watching, and greeting customers, since I appeared to be “in charge.”  Owner, Tracie, had to spend the day in Bucerias filing a report with the local DA, as her neighbor beat her and her mother (who intervened) with a stick.  It’s been an ongoing feud over the neighbor’s constantly barking (and chained up) dogs.  Apparently, Tracie had no luck, because Mexicans usually “win” over Americans. Bienvenidos!

I returned to Deb’s around 4PM, and realized I hadn’t hidden a key.  The dogs and I chatted it up, as I wrote my heart away on the serene patio, finally lighting a candle and rinsing my dusty feet off in the pool.  The unbelievable “reasonable” gardener, who comes three times per week, arrived and toiled for well over an hour!  I remember my gardener (Mexican in America) finishing my half-acre lot in under thirty minutes!  Needless to say, I was impressed with the young man’s work ethic and attention to details.

Deb came home, as did Pancho, and we chatted into the night about spiritual things, like the “healer” on the AllyCat the other day.  A group of women had chartered the boat for a day of intense relaxation and healing, specifically by a woman who travels the world circulating her hands over people (without touching them), and ultimately healing them of all sorts of physical and spiritual ailments.

The most intriguing story Pancho shared was of a seventy-five-year-iold man in the mountains of Tuito who has six or seven senses.  He knows immediately if he will ever invite you to return to his sacred property.  He invites guests to imbibe in his “special” water, and if they are hungry, he leaves for an hour or three, not returning until he has killed a deer or other animal for his guests.  He has a policy of never allowing anything from his land to leave his land, so if any “meat” is not consumed, he feeds it to other animals nearby.  I entreated Pancho to take me there one day soon.  I truly want to experience this “mountain man’s” energy.

Debi took me in to Vallarta in the morning, treating me to a Mocha at Starbuck’s drive-thru along the way.  The other day, we had purchased a delicious “envuelto poblano” (chili and cheese panini).  I’m not a Starbuck’s “frequent-er,” but I would definitely go for another “envuelto!”

I checked in at the Krystal, but had to wait until 4 to get a room, so I went into town to look at two apartments.  One was amazing, on a flat street, but the decline to town killed my knees.  With sore “rodillas,” (knees), I decided against Vickie’s beautiful rental.

Another, the inside of which I will view Monday, had a great view, including a rarely-used giant terraza on the roof, with tables, chairs, umbrellas, a gas grill, and a stove top!  Trenie was with me, and although I can stay with her for a pittance, also really liked this place.  We then went over to her house to try and straighten out her internet problems.  Forty-five minutes, and about ten dollars of TelMex minutes, we accomplished “nada.”  They are coming Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday, and are supposed to give her an hour window with a phone call.  The verdict is out.

I rode the bus back to my 2-star “resort,” and fumbled a bit as I sorted through my pesos.  There’s a new fifty-cent piece the size of an American dime and with flowery edges.  It throws me for a loop because it seems like it should be worth a penny!  Why would any country have two different fifty-cent pieces?

The Krystal is a total disappointment.  I’m here on an RCI exchange, and spent my honeymoon here in 1984.  Nothing has changed - or been updated at all.  Every timeshare I’ve been to has had INTERNET in the rooms, dish soap and sponge, paper towels or a dish towel, salt pepper, coffee and filters, more than just a giant serrated knife, and above all - an ocean view. The casitas allotted for RCI exchange guests are less than a cheap single-wide mobile home.  I have an email in to RCI, and will call tomorrow!  Nonetheless, I tend to turn lemons into lemonade.

Warm gentle rain accompanied me on a sunset beach stroll.  What I love most about PV weather is the warm nights - rain or not.  As everyone else, I am obsessed with the melon, purple, and magenta sunsets, an almost nightly show all year round.  I also love the friendliness and helpfulness of her people.  At Sorianna (the big grocery store), I only had a 200-peso bill, but I needed another 37 centavos.  The girl said, 

“No worry.  200 is ok.”  I told her I would bring it the next day, and she said, “It’s ok.  I remember you.”  Indeed I had remembered her as well, from many trips over the years to this very store.  I walked out with warm fuzzes filling my heart. 

Valentine’s Day came and went, with a few “gulps,” as I watched lovers holding hands, passing roses, dressing in red, and twinkling with amor.  Some hopeful guy paid for fireworks to go off on our beach, as well as a ground show of lights that read, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Baby!”  He also proposed.  I hope she said, “Yes,” but I kept wondering if any other guys took advantage of the hopeful guy’s dime, lying that it was THEM that arranged the show for THEIR girls!

My son Daniel sent me Valentine’s wishes, and today I FaceTImed him for his 22nd birthday.  I cannot believe the little guy I took on in 1995 is now a professional adult music producer!  Technology has allowed me to stay connected to my 82-year-old parents in Pennsylvania, my four children, and my two nietas (granddaughters), Hazel and Violet, but I DO miss hugs!  It’s only been a week!  Is it all worth it?  Stay tuned for my “Week #1 Budget!”

Amour, Horses, Turkeys, and Parrots

FEBRUARY 12 - THURSDAY

Horses, turkeys, parrots and amor.  We drove from the American School to Ally’s horseback riding lessons.  My lifelong love for horses was re-ignited as we approached the immaculate and serene setting of Rancho Montelbeña in the hills just north of Sayulita, on the road to Punta Mita.  This place is immaculate and serene and well, just magical!

Debi’s 1 1/2 year old grandson was with us, smiling and coo-ing at the sight of horses, turkeys in full “plume,” and a very curious parrot with a personality to boot.  We played in the expanse of manicured green lawn as we waited for Ally’s instructor, Pablo to arrive.

Waiting for the instructor

Matteo and Gramma Debi

Quite an entertaining character

From out of a fairy - TAIL

Matteo - starting young!

A quaint sitting area

Perfect saddles - blazing in the sun

Strutting turkey dance!

A wild beauty

And arrive he did.  Whew!  Deep breath!  He took one look at me and said that he recognized me.  It wasn’t until later that I found it he was a polo player.  It is highly possible we encountered one another at a match at the Santa Barbara Polo Fields, where I frequent.  Whether we had met or not, one look at this “muy guapo” (very handsome) Spaniard had me considering linking up a few lessons for myself!

Ally, nervous at the sight of a new, and much larger, horse, hoisted herself up, but was quickly told to jump off when we all noticed an escaped black stallion running for the road!  “El Guapo” hopped onto Ally’s horse and quickly wrangled in the frightened escapee.  I happened to have been standing right in the middle of it all, just three feet from the winnowing horse.  All I could say was, “Todo bien.  Todo bien. Whoah!”  (everything’s fine, whoa.)  But I was scared to death I’d be trampled on!

Nervous at first

Pablo led Ally and her horse up to the riding arena, where I breathed in every step, trot, canter, and gallop.  Seeing this sinewy slender thirteen-year-old young woman proudly perched on a thousand pound animal, brought me back to my early teen years.  I had longed to have and ride a horse.  My friend, Judy Walker, had one.  Some days I went home with her on “Bus #1” to Stafore Estates, where her mother would pack us treats in a brown bag, and we’d ride bareback into the forest behind her house.  Oh how I envied Judy.  And oh I glad I was that she was my friend.

Ally had never jumped before.  Pablo decided today was the day.  He prepared the “jumps,” and prompted Ally to lead her horse to the jumps.  “Uno, dos, tres - cuatro, cinch, seis,” he chanted, as he had earlier while she rode around the arena.  This tactic was to let the horse hear the rhythm and get in sync.

And then she did it.  Not one, not two, but three beautiful jumps in a row.  Five times she did this!  The gleam in her eyes, the pride in her smile, and the sudden confidence in her posture, made me cry - literally.  I turned to her mother and said,

“THIS - is what will keep her stable, happy, and out of small town trouble.”

The air, the twilight glow, the smell of clean animals and rising dust, made me long for a time that can never be re-captured, except through the vicarious witnessing of a young lady, who so much wants to be accepted, and to feel powerfully loved, riding a tall mahogany beauty.

Breaking in a brand new foal!

A few wranglers brought a young black foal (whose father is the white horse in the stable photo) near the arena.  They were attempting to familiarize the little powerhouse with the "reigns."  Ah life's lessons in the little things.

I saw Ally’s excitement and, more poignantly, her respect for this glorious animal.  The horse that she was afraid to ride, much bigger than her usual little white pony, was now her new friend.

Ally  - eliciting pride and endearment

“Can I ride him next time, Pablo?” she pleaded.  “Of course,” he said,  “He likes you.”  And I told her the same - that she had gained the horse’s confidence in her, and that she should be proud of herself.  And it was clear that she was. 

FEBRUARY 11, 2015 WEDNESDAY

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go!  Another day of walking streets, calling numbers on signs, meeting with two property managers, and having fun with Trenie.  She calls herself “CL” - Crazy Lady.  She’s 74 and has the pep of a thirty-five-year-old - and an imaginative sense of humor to boot!   A lovely lady, whose style is evident in her colorful clothes, well-kept gorgeous golden red hair, and sparkling array of accessories, Trenie keeps me on my toes.

Luckily, Debi had to drive in to Vallarta today, so after she and I spent an hour on the internet at the Marina Starbuck’s, I hitched a bus to downtown.  I headed straight for a particular Property Management place where I had met the hard-working Xenon (Zee-nahn) over a year ago.  He’s got my number and my specs and, among other agents, is on my case, trying to find a near-to-perfect home for me.  I’m not revealing any companies until I  witness how they operate.  Stay tuned for that update.

After so much walking that Trenie had to stop and buy a pair of basic chancletas (flip flops), a few possibilities sparked my interest, and soon enough, it was time to reconvene with Debi at her daughter’s American School by the Marina.  I decided to splurge on a taxi to Walmart, as the unseasonable humidity can be grueling on the blue bus (even worse on the locals’ green buses, loaded with sweaty workers, which venture deep into local territories).  The elderly driver quoted me 100 pesos, but I turned on my charmed and talked him down to 80.  In Mexico, everything is negotiable.

ADVICE:  Ladies, put on weight and buy a blonde wig, for, when it comes to getting bargains, tit doesn’t hurt to have an “ample” corpus and very blonde hair! Latinos favor this.

Perhaps the greatest highlight of my short stay so far, was about to unfold.  I will post the story and pics tomorrow, that brought me ethereal delight - including tears to my eyes. (not the ones you get from the dusty streets)

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.

FEBRUARY 12, 2015

Office time at Choco Banana with Debi, after a delectable chiliquiles breakfast, (with owner, Tracie, and friends, Bobbi and Mikie), lasted from noon to 6PM!  “Mas agua, por favor, con hielo” (more water please, with ice) was our mantra as we both tended to our emails and business, availing ourselves of Choco’s free WiFi.  Debi’s internet at her home has been out for a week, a first, after ten years of internet service.  

This productive Sunday ended with the same “gaggle” of gals meeting at Bicho’s Tacos for dinner at 6:45.  Scrumptious Tacos al Pastor, Pork, Beef, and Chicken are a mere 15 pesos each, accompanied by an “extras” bar of yummy white beans, salsa, creams, toppings, and limes.  One of these puppies was enough for me.  They have sodas, (Fanta is the most popular), but you can bring your drinks in to this place, as you sit at newly painted picnic tables under the canopy of tropical trees and twinkling lights.

I was intent on attending the 7PM Mass at the minuscule Our Lady of Guadalupe Church on the colorful town square where Aztec wax art from Xochitl is crafted and sold.  I quickly gobbled my gigantic taco and ran toward the Church.  I sat on a bench just outside the door, waiting for others to arrive.  A woman opened the doors, lit the candles, looked outside, blew out the candles, closed the doors, and turned out the lights.  Mass was cancelled!  Had the Mass been in English, I’d have entered, but I am no way prepared to be the “sole congregant” answering prayers in Spanish.  Oh well, it was the thought that counted, mom!  I fled back to Bicho’s, surprising the girls, laughing all the way.

Later that night, the smell of boiling beans filled Debi’s house, as she prepared part of the chicken taco meal to be completed on the AllyCat sail in the morning.  Every night, she repeats this ritual, grateful for a thriving business and happy sailors.  I slept up in the open loft, and though the beans’ steam rose, the air conditioner provided a cool respite after a long hot day at “the office!”

FEBRUARY 9, 2015

ADVICE:  Do NOT believe the taxi drivers at the airport.  They quote you 120,000 pesos ($120), referring to an official-looking chart, telling you that all taxi drivers in the city have the same rates, but they will give you a deal and take you to Sayulita for $65.  WALK ACROSS THE BRIDGE.  Sayulita for $40.  No questions asked.

Once I settled into the front seat of the taxi, next to a handsome young man I had correctly assumed was from Acapulco, Eddy, I was able to take a deep breath.  Lugging my large 61-pound suitcase and small 40-pound carry-on up the steep bridge incline, then down the same on the other side, had stolen my breath and  parched my throat.

“Una cerveza primero?”  I asked Eddy.  Happily, he obliged by pulling into a little “tienda” (store) on the road.  But I chose a can of Finlandia and Tonic instead of a beer.  Ahhh, refreshment.  Off to the jungle!

I remembered the way to Debi and Pancho’s gorgeous large bungalow by the river. It had always reminded me of a fancy Flintstones’ house.  Pancho built it himself!  Greeted by her four dogs, I used Eddy’s phone to call Debi, who quickly arrived on her ATV.  These three-wheelers are the modus operandi on the rutted dirt backroads of Sayulita.

Debi and Pancho own the amazing AllyCat Sailing - named after their daughter, Ally, whom I met ten years ago when she was just three.  Their son, son, Noah, is the certified Captain (unlike other so-called Captains in Mexico) of the Ally Cat, a totally family run business. A must do for families and friends in Sayulita!  Especially NOW - whale time!   http://allycatsailing.com

Debi treated me, to my objection, to Truffles pasta and a wonderful wine and cheese salad at La Rustica, a once minuscule three-seat bar, now an expanded and thriving Italian delight.  Back on the rear of her ATV, my legs spread in an un-ladylike manner, we hustled off down the bumpy terrain to home.  My thighs are already sore!

After a hot and cold night’s sleep in the spacious air-conditioned loft, I awoke to utter peace.  No one there, except sleeping dogs.  I poured myself a cup of hot coffee and walked onto the palm tree shaded patio, admiring Pancho’s handiwork in the large garden and pool area.

I gulped, resisting the urge to cry, without really knowing why. The silence was actually beautifully overwhelming.  A different kind of silence than I am accustomed too, wrapped in the fresh green scent of morning jungle and warm penetrating sunshine.  Only an occasional call from an exotic-sounding parrot, or a bark from a wary dog, would break the stillness.  It was serene.

“Perhaps,” I thought, “I SHOULD check out the tranquil pueblo of Chacala, Nayarit.”

Today, it’s off to the main streets to find a Mexican sim card for my old i-phone 4, or just add minutes to my old Mexican Samsung flip phone.  Then to Debi’s Ally Cat Sailing to use internet there, as her home internet is down.  There is a population waiting to hear from me back in the states!

February 8 , 2015

I did it.  I’m on the plane to PV!  But oh what a path to get here!

ADVICE: - start purging, storing, and packing at least six months in advance!

My material possessions were pretty well stripped when I decided to make this journey, or so I thought!  On January 1, I began throwing things away, labeling, and storing memorabilia, Christmas decorations, photos, legal docs, some clothes, and kitchen stuff.  I thought I’d have my small apartment emptied out within a week of my departure, with just my suitcase, toiletries, bed, and paper plates riding out the final week.  Not exactly what happened!

Canceling utilities, placing travel alerts on my credit cards, transferring funds into my fee-free Schwab account, making a will, putting copies of all important documents in the safety deposit box to which I had my eldest son added, filling 3-month prescriptions (thyroid). and arranging for my mail and banking needs took up a lot of extra time during the last week in Santa Barbara.  

Also unexpected, was the onslaught of invitations to lunch or dinner with friends, some of whom I had never dined before, and some whom I hadn’t seen in over a year, but suddenly, now that word got out that I’m moving to Mexico, I was the most popular kid on the block!  How I managed not to gain 20 pounds int he past two weeks is a miracle in and of itself!

Ready to hit the ground running, gathering the straggling hangers, towels, bedding, vitamins, makeup, curlers I never used, five toenail clippers (which I do not use), parting with a duck soup tureen, a Crate and Barrel serving dish, and a slew of utensils,  I was thrown a curveball.  

Three nights before my departure, dad called to tell me mom hadn’t been feeling well.  Her symptoms were indicative of internal bleeding.  The next day dad called to say mom had taken a fall at around midnight and was rushed by ambulance to the hospital.  After 48 hours on pins and needles, not knowing whether I’d be flying to Mexico or Pennsylvania, mom’s prognosis is good, though her tail bone is hurting, dad insisted I not come to PA.

That night, Thursday, was my final Crime Time, a weekly gathering of a few close friends to eat a meal prepared by Josh, Jim’s son, and watch recorded crime TV shows.  Rod arrived, telling us about the day he spent the day before at the hospital, with chest pains that were diagnosed as esophageal reflux or hiatal hernia.  

“I guess I must not be from my dad’s side of the family - with multiple bypasses in all the men.  My mom’s side lives forever.”  He died of a heart attack in front of us forty five minutes later.  Rob worked on his chest, Carmen and performed mouth-to-mouth, and paramedics followed up for over thirty minutes.  His number was up.  His best friends, Marti and her dog Soleil, arrived by taxi to survey the shocking scene.  The loss of this wonderful man devastated us, and paralyzed my moving efforts.  

In the middle of the last-minute-chaos, I received a text that Rob’s mother had passed away in her sleep the night before.  Robe was the friend who attempted to revive Rod’s heartbeat.  I fell to my knees and gasped.  Frederic hugged me and urged me on.  Two hours to departure.

ADVICE:  ASK FOR HELP!!  (not my forte, having been disappointed a lot in life, but I’m learning)

Barely made it onto the airport bus, as friends Frederic and Carmen, and my son, Chris, frantically helped me with major last minute packing and clean up.  Paint touch up, refrigerator cleaning, and patio scrubbing were things I had put off.  Frederic promised to tie up all the loose ends.  Carmen Hortensia saw me off, a faithful friend, and Beth Moore made it to the bus stop in the nick of time.  Tearfully, I waved my hot pink umbrella from the bus.

Thankfully, Cindy P. picked me up and hosted me at her home in Marina del Ray so that I didn’t have to get on a 5:30AM bus today.  She and her beautiful Bichon, Finley, kissed me adios this morning.  I did cry again.  I hadn’t expected the rush of emotions.  This is really happening.

Because I hold an Alaska Signature Visa, I got a free bag checked, didn’t have to pay for the extra weight, and was TSA pre-checked.  All gifts in a normally crowded, long-lined experience.

Immediately, I struck up a conversation with Patricia who owns property in Chacala. (airbnb.com - the mermaid house (Casa Sirena ).While it is a peaceful jungle oasis, and I will visit her, I likely will be seeking an apartment nearer to the action I crave.  Both teachers, artists, adventurers, salsa-lovers (dance and food), we hit it off with a bang! 

The Puerto Vallarta native sitting next to me on the plane, Carmen Hortensia, (same name as my SB pal) chatted with me about the varying prices for “gringos” and locals.”  This is crucial if you’re a gringo looking to rent.  More on this later, I’m sure!

Terrence, my ever-faithful favorite Alaska flight attendant, hooked me up with a young Polish gal, Alesandra, who is renting in a condo complex I’ve explored.  Though some rooms are dark, I may check Marbella condominiums out  again. 

ADVICE:  Talk to strangers! (including airline employees!)

Powder blue skies, mountains dotted with shimmery white clouds, ocean glistening blue, the descent has begun.  A new life is upon me.  Now for the fun stuff!