Puerto Vallarta | April 19 | Day Six

Well if the past five days have been paradise, today was a little bit of hell.

First off, neither of us are very pleased with the Westin. It’s okay as a hotel, I guess. But as one taxi driver put it, “It’s a little rusty.” We’re in a renovated “junior suite” which I actually paid more to upgrade to, and it’s little more than a slightly larger room. It does however, have a jacuzzi on the terrace, which should be nice, but again, we’ve had a lot of trouble working it. I think it ran all night, in a low-grade sort of way. I finally got it turned completely off.

So, the hotel is just okay, and when we arrived we were too early to check in. After some back and forth, Jane agreed to go into town and see the sights. We started on the Malecon, Puerto Vallarta’s version of the Wildwood boardwalk. It’s mostly a collection of souvenir shops, restaurants catering to tourists (chains like Senior Frogs), and jewelry stores. Before you get to the river, there’s an old cathedral that is the pride and joy of the town. We walked up towards it, and since we both needed to use the bathroom, we climbed the stairs to a restaurant overlooking the church. We ordered drinks, since the sign clearly stated that the baños were for customers only, and watched the people go by. The most interesting thing was that most cars that drove by the intersection where the church was, the passengers would genuflect, crossing themselves before going on. It was quite fascinating.


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Mass was still going on, so we paid up and headed to church. I had read that the church had a dress code and that tourists should be courteous about their dress when entering the church. There’s even a sign at the door. No shorts, basically. As I was wearing shorts, and carrying a rather large camera, I hung back towards the door. Jane, not being the least bit shy, walked right in. Within seconds, she’d gotten in line and before I knew it had taken communion. Go girl. I looked around and noticed that several of the Mexican men around me were wearing shorts so I walked in and stood in the back.


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We left church, Jane feeling like at least she’d “gotten that out of the way” and we headed down the street. Somehow, here’s where it went wrong.

We stopped briefly in front of one of the hundreds of stores selling tequila, and struck up a conversation with the guy who worked there. It started friendly enough, and he asked what we’d been doing. We mentioned that we were thinking of renting a boat and going fishing. Of course, he had just the boat, blah, blah, blah. So he took us inside where he proceeded to have us taste his tequila while he tried to sell us on a boat. Before long, we were whipping through tiny shots of flavored tequilas, everything from vanilla and piña colada, to añejo and pomegranate. Most of these, the flavored tequilas, were only 19 proof, being little more than premixed drinks. But still. Francisco, as we learned his name was, explained that he was the manager of both this store, and the one across the street. So, then we went over there and tried more tequilas. By the second store, and another half dozen shots, he let the cat out of the bag.


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The thing you have to understand, is that in Puerto Vallarta, everything is about real estate. Most of the large resorts have at least one component that are privately owned condos, or time-shares. They employ a wide range of people, both on-site and off, that try to reel in the tourists, and turn them over to sales people who’s sole job is to show you how nice the place is, and if they think you might be interested, they turn you over to the master salesmen to close the deal. It all starts innocent enough. They can offer you discounts on food and alcohol at your hotel. That boat ride you wanted? You can have it for free. You want to go snorkeling? They’ll take care of it.

All you have to do is agree to come to breakfast where they work you for 90 minutes. First, for most of these places, they just want to show you how nice the hotel is, which presumably is a good way to convert repeat customers, but the real money is in selling you a condo or timeshare. The low level people, the men and women at the airport, the guy selling trinkets on the beach, and the tequila places, are all paid by one real estate company or another, to reel you in. For this they are paid a commission.

They’re very good at this. I’m by no means an easy sell and generally I have a good radar for bullshit. But I can feel sympathy for what they’re trying to do and sometimes that’s my downfall. The problem is, I’ll listen.

I told Francisco, in no uncertain terms, that I was not interested in taking the tour, listening to any sales pitch, or in any other way, doing anything but enjoying my vacation. I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of hotels, and I don’t care how nice they are. I’m still not interested in buying anything. In fact, even though I think the area is very nice, I’m not sure I’ll be coming back soon, because there are still a lot of places in the world I haven’t seen, and before I start repeating myself, I’d like to see them.

But Francisco wasn’t giving up without a fight. The main pitch of these guys is, “You don’t want to save money?” And then they look at you incredulously, like: you stupid American with more money than brains. And you say, “No. I’m not interested in saving money.” And then they cock their head like the RCA dog.

Now meanwhile, he’s still pouring shots of tequila. This is his standby gesture.

So the boat we’re looking at is a 37’ fishing boat with a baño, which can be nice when you’re out on the water for four to eight hours. He wants $340 for the trip, but he’ll give it to us for $40 if we go on his little tour, which is at least two hours of our time between the supposed 90 minutes plus travel to and fro. I’m willing to just pay for the damn boat. But really, I want to think about it. I’d like to shop around, but he’s making phone calls, writing things down, trying to close the deal. Finally, he just wears me down and I give him a $60 deposit. I have to pay the remaining $280 to the boat captain. Which means, to me, that I should be able to get the boat for $280, because I’m sure he keeps the $60. But whatever.

So, finally, Jane and I leave and we begin fighting. I didn’t want her to interfere in the negotiations, she was just trying to have a good time. I overreacted. She got her feelings hurt. It wasn’t pretty. We proceed to fight all day, threatening to ruin the rest of the vacation.


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Oh, we walked down to Zona Romantica, actually ate the best lunch we’ve had since we got here, took a cab back to the hotel, where I argued with the hotel and looked at no less than three rooms, before deciding to pay more for the one I wanted, went to the bar by myself, went back to room, fought some more, went down the beach and had a beer, came back to the room, got Jane and went down the beach to watch the sunset (which was beautiful), went back to the room, fought some more, ordered Jane room service and finally went to sleep. Somewhere in there we made up.


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And that’s pretty much how we ended the day.

I’m still not sure what to do about the boat. I’m sure it’s wonderful and that we’ll like it fine, but that’s not the way to make a deal. I’m thinking of walking over to the marina, which is just behind the hotel, and taking a look at the boat. Possibly talk to the captain and get him to throw in beer and food. If he’s not interested, Francisco can keep the $60 and the captain will get nothing from me. I’ll go find another deal.

I’ve also thought about calling Cesar and seeing what he can come up with. I’m sure he knows somebody with a nice boat. Everybody does.

But mostly, we’ll lay in the sun today. They do have a nice beach area, with these large white beds. They’re maybe 15 feet square and made of white cushions about a foot off the sand. You take up the whole thing. It’s quite nice. Jane wants to swim in the Pacific. I’m generally happy with the pool. We’ll go back to what we’ve been doing, which is reading, drinking, eating, and getting a tan.

We did find what looked like a very cute little restaurant called TRIO: “Mediterranean Food Cooked with Love. A European garden Restaurant with a Colonial Touch.” [ Guerrero 264, Col. Centro, PTO Vallarta, Jalisco, México 322.222.2196 : http://www.triopv.com ]

Maybe we’ll try it out, or maybe we should just avoid town.

P.S. I just found out there may be a problem getting my Russian visa turned around in time, so the office might want me to FEDEX my passport to Washington, D.C., get my visa processed, then FEDEX it back to me. I'm not really comfortable with this, but I guess the worst thing that happens is I have to go to the consulate and get another passport. It would also mean we would be at least a day late getting back. I don't know what it would mean for our airline tickets. This is not what I need right now.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 19 | Day Six

Blue sky is back. Woke about an hour ago and started packing. It went quicker than I thought. There is nothing like having laundry facilities.


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We (and by this I mean me), had to say goodbye to Cesar and the rest of the staff. They’ve been great. Made me feel at home. I have both Cesar and Juan’s email and home addresses. I’m going to make some small prints of the pictures I took of them and send it to them. I need to do it quickly if possible, except I don’t know when I’ll be able to do it.

We have to check out by 11am, but I think both Jane and I were hoping to be out earlier. We want to get into our new hotel and get settled so we can enjoy the day. My original plan had been to drop our stuff off and go explore town, but I think Jane would be happier if we got settled for real first. Town will have to wait. Maybe for dinner tonight.

I think we’re going to miss this place. There’s no way we have this nice a room at the next hotel. I discovered last night that the door to the other bedroom, which is two double beds, another bathroom with shower and outside access, was open the entire time. Not that we could have used it. But that makes a two bedroom suite that could easily have slept our entire family. Three bathrooms with three showers and a tub. A full kitchen. Dishwasher. Laundry. It’s crazy. Jane wants to come back with another couple, or our family. The only thing is, there’s nothing for the kids to do. The big kids. They’d want to go into town and we’re a little out of the way. Even so, Jane wants to come back. And why not?!


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One more word about the bullfights. Cesar told me it was purely a tourist thing. Damn. The real show is tonight. The weekly rodeo, which happens from 4-7 and then the real action begins. It's all the locals getting tanked and fighting. I don't think Jane's going to want to go, and I'm not even sure it's good idea for me. I'd go without my camera, but I always get a little uneasy in a rough area with $5k work of equipment hanging around my neck. It's like a bullseye.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 18 | Day Five

Today was the first cloudy day we’ve had since we got here. Hazy is probably more accurate description, but it was the clear blue sky we’ve come to expect. We got all the sun we need regardless.


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The hotel is very quiet compared to what we’ve seen so far. The staff explained that they were told it was probably going to be like this for the next two weeks, so many of them are making plans to take time off. When it’s busy, they only get one day off for every two weeks of work. I can’t imagine. So, they take the time when they can.

Some of them are traveling home to the home of their family: a village somewhere, the family ranch, while others are just taking extra time with their families.

Both Cesar and Juan, the bartender, left early today because it was slow slow. Cesar is taking the next three days off, and Cesar had gotten only two hours sleep since he’d been up late with his new girlfriend. He was in good spirits and despite being tired wore a big grin all day. Must have been a good night.


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It was our last day and now we have to make new friends with all new staff members. Jane couldn’t care less of course, but she claims I have a thing with making friends with the staff. I guess I do. They’re more interesting than talking to the other guests. I pretty know all I need to know about people from Minnesota and Calgary. I’m more interested in the local population. Why else would I come here? I can go to Miami and find a nice resort on the water. Of course in Miami they’d be full of Cubans and South Americans too, but this is different. I like having to work a little to speak Spanish. It’s not fun if they speak English too well, because you feel stupid trying to fumble through bad Spanish if they speak fluent English.

So, let see. There is Cesar, Juan, Mabi, two Gabriels, Alonso, and Javier. There were more of course, but we didn’t really meet them. All very friendly and courteous.


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We’d been invited to Cesar’s 96-year-old grandmother’s birthday, which would have been a blast, I’m sure, but we need to pack since we’re changing hotels tomorrow. We want to be packed and out early. Our plan is to get to our new hotel in Marina Vallarta, check in if possible (though technically, check-in isn’t until 3pm), then head into town. I want to spend some time walking around to the various shops, scope out a few restaurants and bars, then head back to the hotel. From the little I saw when I was there with Cesar, it seems like a fun place. Lots of funky little shops with all kinds of cool junk we don’t need, but will buy anyway.


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Well, before we go, a little about the resort. It’s basically a privately-owned resort, most of the suites are owned full-time, while some are time-shares. And then there are people like us who simply use it like a hotel. All the rooms are suites with full kitchens and range from one to three bedrooms. And then there are penthouses.


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The resort is shaped like a “U” with the pools in the middle. There are several with waterfalls connecting them, as well as three, large hot tubs.


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There is only one bar in the hotel, other than a small one at the main restaurant inside the resort and it’s in the pool. Of course you can get drinks and food at your chair either on the beach or at the pool, but if you want to “sit” at the bar, you need to be wearing a suit. It’s not the worst thing in the world.

So, tomorrow we leave. As they say, we don't have to go home, but we can't stay here.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 17 | Day Four

Jane survived her boating trip, I bought new flip flops, ate ceviche at a road side stand and lived to tell about it, and we both made it home alive. Hallelujah.

Actually, we both had a wonderful time even though we didn’t talk to each other all day. Jane had a great time on the boat with the girls, and Cesar took me to see places and things I never would have seen on my own.

We started by stopping by his home so he could change out of his work clothes. I didn’t go in, but waited with the car. A few minutes later he came walking down carrying his nephew Hugo, who it became obvious thinks the sun rises and sets with Cesar. Hugo turns 4 next week and they’re celebrating his birthday along with Cesar’s sister and 96 year old grandmother, all of whom share the exact same birthday. It should be quite a show.

Cesar lives up the mountain overlooking the bay. As we twisted and turned up increasingly steep streets I wondered if the small car we were driving would be able to make it. It seemed like you’d need a four wheel drive, or at least a mountain goat, but we made it. The view is stunning with the entire town laid out before you, red roofs and all before ending in the blue waters of Banderas Bay.


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After meeting Hugo’s mother, we were on our way. Stopping by a small shop that sold leather sandalias, I bought a new pair of flip flops (a term Cesar found funny), then made our way to a beautiful, open-air restaurant for breakfast. Family owned and run, the furniture was rugged, the food simple and fresh, and the prices a downright steal. We had huevos with potatoes, ham, and bacon, along with hot sauce, salsa and corn tortillas. I learned that in this part of the world, most Mexicans eat corn, rather than flour tortillas.



We had wonderful coffee and fresh orange juice as well except that Cesar ordered what he called green juice. I could see that it was green juice, but what I wanted to know was what it was. Apparently it was a mix of juices from both fruits and vegetables, which Cesar claimed kept one healthy if you drank it everyday. There were several of these natural remedies throughout the day; concoctions that cured everything from colds to hangovers to cancer.


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Having finished our breakfast, we drove South along the coast on one of two roads coming in and out of Puerto Vallarta. For the most part, to your left was a brown, rocky jungle which Cesar explained would become lush in the rainy season, and to the right, along the water, were unbelievable private homes and more resorts, ranging from boutique to gargantuan. We wound our way up the coast slowing every few hundred meters to pass over speed bumps. These are everywhere and are a very effective speed limit that I’m sure keeps traffic deaths way down since the roads are narrow, the cliffs steep and the guard rails non-existent.

Our destination was Las Arches, a rock formation off the coast that have natural arches underneath cut by the ocean. They are a tourist destination for boaters, divers and snorkelers, evidences by the groups of boats surrounding them.


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There’s a reason people travel to these rock formations by boat. We were just a little too far away, stuck up on a cliff with waves crashing on the rocks below. They are beautiful but to get any kind of good picture, you’d really need to be on a boat and arrive for either sunrise or sunset. Otherwise, they’re just rocks jutting out of the ocean.

Next we traveled a little farther South on the main road before turning left on a dirt road that led up into the mountains. Following a river that always stayed on our right, we wound up the mountain up a road that was often unbelievably tight for two cars to pass complete with hairpin turns and steep sections. There were a lot of cars, and this was obviously a tourist area. We passed through little villages with curio shops, tequila “factory stores”, and the ubiquitous bodegas, tiny grocery stores that sold a wide range of supplies and of course, beer. The ones that sold Corona were always painted yellow and blue, the brand’s colors. Cesar wanted to know if they did the same thing in New Jersey. No, I explained. It’s a little different.


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We pulled off into a parking lot that contained a series of small buildings, some not more than stalls, selling a variety of souvenirs to tourists. There were people swimming below in the river, leaving there clothes to dry on the larger boulders. We left the car and walked up a path which eventually opened up to reveal a wider section of the river and a restaurant built along it’s edge. The place was a series of bridges, stairs, and multiple levels of seating, all combined to give you wonderful view of the river. We ordered a couple of beers and wandered around, me taking pictures with my camera and Cesar taking pictures with his iPhone.

Cesar, as it turns out, takes quite a lot of pictures with his phone. In the short time, I’ve known him, he’s pulled out his iPhone to show me pictures of his family’s ranch, his grandmother, his ex-girlfriend, his new girlfriend, his sister’s house complete with something close to a zoo full of birds and animals, a truck he wants to buy, trips up into the mountains, his nephew, his niece, his cousin and even his daughter.

Now, while for the most part I was supposed to be off seeing the “real” Puerto Vallarta, I guess we had to stop at at least one cheesy touristy joint. And I can’t think of anything more cheesy than visiting the site and set of Predator, a movie about an alien who comes to earth to hunt humans for sport, starring the governor of California.


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So there I was staring at a replica model of the alien sitting on top of a helicopter they blew up for the movie. Several areas of the set that was built for the movie have been turned into tourist attractions complete with Corona, curio gift shops, restaurants and river pools in which to cool off. But here’s the catch, most of the people we saw weren’t Americans at all, but Mexicans from other parts of Mexico. They love the movie and this was a big deal. So, the joke was on me. If I wanted to see what Mexicans did for fun, this was it. I was the only gringo in the place.

Next we traveled down a back road leading up through the mountains again, following yet another river. There was no tourism here. This was Mexican heartland. While many Mexicans in the area make their living on the tourism trade and so work on or near the beach, it’s not where they choose to do on their days off.

The river, especially in the mountains, is where the locals go to have fun and relax. Everywhere you looked, as you traveled along the river, were families bathing in the water, cooking on the shores over campfires, and taking the occasional siesta. Most of the Mexicans I met, claimed that this was definitely their spot of choice. Let the tourists have the beach. Give them a nice cool spot along the river where they could frolic in the cool mountain stream, cook on an open fire and fall asleep under a tree.

Maybe they have something there.

Cesar and I ended our day back in town where we went to a small restaurant and bar run by a friend of his. It was all locals. Ceviche was their specialty so we ordered the requisite round of Coronas, and two orders of ceviche. These were twice the size of what they served at the resort, and frankly much better. A serving was two large mounds on equally larger crackers. One would have been enough for me, but by the time I got back from washing my hands in the bathroom, Cesar was polishing off his second. He ordered a second round of scallop ceviche, both of which he bathed in habanero salsa, and a generous squirt from no less than three bottles of sauce. Before long he was sweating profusely and smiling broadly.


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It had been a full day.

Jane reported that they had an equally good, if not a slightly different kind of day. The girls were nice, the boat beautiful and well appointed, the crew friendly and courteous, the weather perfect. Other than getting a little sunburned, and eating only “cheese little sandwiches”, she had a grand time.

As Cesar was letting me off in front of the hotel, the girls were pulling up in a van, screaming out of the windows. A few of the girls, okay one, had gotten pretty drunk and had been yelling out the windows at various people along the way. It had obviously been a full day for them as well.

We had dinner at the main restaurant in the hotel, which was actually quite good, but by the end of the meal I was spent. No coffee. No desert. No after dinner drink. We got back to our room and I crawled into bed where I was quickly fast asleep.

I did, however, dream all night in Spanish.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 17 | Day Four

I don’t have much time since I need to be in the lobby in 45 minutes to meet Cesar. He’s taking me out for the day to see the sights. Before I leave I need to give Jane money for her trip.


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I, on the other hand, need to have Cesar take me somewhere where I can buy flip flops. That should be fun. I’m going shoe shopping with my Mexican guide. Knowing how homophobic Mexican men are, he’ll probably throw me out of the car. That or he won’t even blink an eye. You just never know.

Well, I better go. Cesar will be waiting and I need to get Jane some cash. If I don’t post another entry later today, you’ll know I’m lying in a ditch somewhere.


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Well, Cesar just called. The hotel is having pictures taken of the grounds and Cesar’s supervisor called him last night because they needed him to help set up tables, or something. I saw them taking pictures this morning. So, anyway, I have another hour, which is good.

One of the places we’re going is up into the mountains behind Puerto Vallarta. There is a river that flows through the middle of town, which apparently begins up in the mountains and there are waterfalls. Should be pretty. Also hope to stop for lunch in a good local, Mexican restaurant. Hope I don’t get sick. I need to remember to buy some hand disinfectant while I’m out. That’s all I need is to get sick.

Jane is a little scared about her trip. Not because of anything specifically, and she’s good on boats, but because of the unknown and because I’m not with her. She’s a scardycat, as she puts it. She’ll have a ball, I’m sure.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 16 | Day Three

It is a little redundant to say it was a beautiful day, but it was. We got down to the pool and secured a good set of chairs near the restaurant and facing the sun. These are two important criteria, which include the added benefit of being near the bathrooms. We started slowly with lemonade for me and iced tea for Jane. It seemed wise, given our previous day’s schedule. Before long we were hungry again, but rather than suffer through another meal hunched over a plastic plate on a chaise lounge, we opted to eat at a proper table under the canopy of a canvas umbrella. It was most pleasant.


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One thing we’ve discovered is that the food is not great. It’s not so much terrible as it is mediocre. Just nothing to write home about. But as I reminded Jane, you can’t really expect too much from hotel food, regardless of where you are. It’s sad but true. I’ve stayed in amazing places, but you never really expect to eat there. You go out. There’s almost no expectation that in a cool hotel you’ll also get a good meal. At best, you expect adequate, if not overpriced.

I spent some time taking pictures today, not a lot, but it occupied my time for a bit. For lunch we had ceviche, which tasted pretty good, but was amazingly salty, rich and a little much for a light lunch. Follow it with a salad that includes goat cheese and my “light” lunch became a brick. We had a bottle of wine as well and that tended to go down well, so I thought it would be judicious to add a few margaritas afterwards. They tasted so good I had few more. Jane declined. She’s a good girl.


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So, of course, by the time we got back to the room, I was already a bit hungover. There’s a bit of a pattern here. I took a short nap, then we showered, dressed and headed out for dinner.

The main restaurant at our hotel was full, at least for tables outside, so we ventured next door to the sister hotel. Even though there were tables out front open, they decided to seat us on the other side of the dining room, which was apparently also the service entrance. Throughout our meal we watched several people with brooms, buckets and mops stroll past us. It was lovely.

It turns out I was dead tired anyway and couldn’t have cared less if I’d eaten or not.


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BUT. The high point of the day was that the server that’s been taking care of us around the pool began talking to us about his ranch, his sister’s house which apparently seconds as a small zoo, and a recent trip up the mountain behind Puerto Vallarta to take pictures. His family owns 8,000 acres of agave plants and makes tequila. One thing led to another and he offered to take me around tomorrow to take pictures. He was able to take off from work, and he borrowed a car from one of the girls he works with. She works from 9am to 5pm, so this is roughly the time we are traveling. I’m meeting him at 9am in the lobby and he has to have the car back by 5pm. Not sure I really want to be gone that long, but you never know. I guess it depends on how much fun we have.

Jane will be out on her catamaran cruise so she won’t miss me, and I just got a bilingual guide for the day. We didn’t discuss payment, but I’m sure he expects something. We’ll see. I’m certainly not prepared to pay his day wage, which I have to expect is substantial given what I’m paying him in tips alone. He may even just be being nice, but I’m far too skeptical to believe that. I’ll offer to pay for fuel and his meals and drinks, plus a tip, but beyond that, I’m not really prepared to go too far.

Of course, this could be priceless. We’ll see.

Neuvo Vallarta | April 16 | Day Three

Since I slept for something like three hours yesterday afternoon (honestly it was more like evening), I woke up before dawn again. It was a stunning sunrise with not a cloud in the sky. The mountains rise up behind us and it was truly something to see. Purple mountain’s majesty, indeed.


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Not sure what we’re going to do today. Possibly drink a little less now that we got that out of our system. We almost always blow it out the first full day we’re on vacation. The first night you’re simply too tired and you go to bed early, waking up full of piss and vinegar. You get down to the beach, or the pool and figure, “What the hell, I’m on vacation. How about a beer?” It doesn’t matter that it’s 9am. And so you go throughout the day. Eventually you make the switch from beer to margaritas or shots of tequila, and next thing you know, you missed dinner and you don’t know what time it is.

Or maybe that’s just us.

We did miss the bullfight last night. I’d really like to go. It’s every Wednesday at 5pm. Supposedly they don’t actually kill the bulls, which seems a little disappointing somehow. It’s like being invited to a cockfight where the chickens don’t actually fight—they just stare at each other and whichever one blinks first loses. I don’t know what they do, just tease the bulls? Call them bad names?

Regardless, I want to shoot it, so I’m going to insist on going next Wednesday. I imagine a stadium full of sunburned gringos, covering their eyes in mock horror and taking pictures of themselves with the bullfighters. Like something you’d find at Disney. Hopefully I’m mistaken.

Well, we’re here on our second full day and we have yet to even attempt to workout. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then we’re hurtling down the road. Jane doesn’t have running shoes and I’m just lazy, I guess. What I’m really missing is my flip flops. I just can’t bring myself to get in a cab and go to the Mexican Walmart, although I know we should. It’s silly to continue to pay for room service coffee when we have a full kitchen complete with toaster, coffee maker, microwave, etc….

But the sun is rising over the top of the hotel again calling to me. People are starting to filter down, taking up places around the pool as the staff who has been cleaning the pool, mowing the lawn, and setting up chairs begins to drift away. I’m sitting on our veranda, listening to music, drinking my overpriced coffee and watching the show.

Jane is showering and I’m in next. We’ll dress and take our place by the pool. Just another day in paradise.

It certainly beats the hell out of work.

Nuevo Vallarta | April 15 | Day Two

Wow. Just woke up. It’s 10pm. Guess that’s what happens when you drink beer and tequila shooters all day. Go figure.
Jane made friends with a group of women from Iowa, or something. No! Wisconsin. Cheese heads. Anyway, Jane has been invited to go on a catamaran on Friday with them from 1pm til 5pm (but I was told not to worry too much if they’re late unless its several hours late and then I should call the Federales) with something like a dozen women. Sounds like trouble. I may travel up to Sayulita, a surf town, to take pictures while she’s gone. Or I might just stay here and take pictures.


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So, we may have been a little tipsy when we returned to our room, where upon we both fell asleep. Jane woke me up several hours later and I thought she was trying to get me up before dawn. Silly me.

I found her watching a show on child psychics because it was the only thing she could find on the TV that wasn’t in Spanish. This freaked her our so when a few women knocked on our door to turn down our beds she got scared and woke me up. I wasn’t very pleasant.

She’s now watching The Breakup, with Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston with Spanish subtitles. It’s actually a great way to learn Spanish though you really have to keep up. They go by really fast. Especially since Vince Vaughn is a motor mouth.

We ordered room service for dinner. A couple of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. Sounds delicious. It really wasn’t.

The day was magnificent. Sunny and low eighties. Got sun but not too much, which is nice on your first day. We still haven’t ventured out to the Mega mart or whatever its called. It’s basically a Mexican Walmart. We need flip flops, running shoes, food, coffee. You know, the basics.

Tomorrow, we might actually eat breakfast before we start drinking, but you never know. I guess it depends on how late we stay up watching Telemundo.

Neuvo Vallarta | April 15 | Day Two

I woke before the sun did and remembered that I hadn't plugged my phone in the night before. This is a sure sign that I'm still on North American time. Why I would I possibly need a phone today? Who am I going to call. It usually takes a few days for this to pass. Eventually, my phone ends up in the safe, where it belongs.


(click on photo to enlarge)

As I was already awake, I decided to not go back to bed and get started on my vacation. That might sound counterproductive, but my idea of a good vacation involves lying in the sun, reading books, writing in my journal and at least twice a day (early morning and late afternoon), writing on my laptop. I've also brought my camera and plan to take a lot of pictures, but for the first few days here, we don't have a lot of plans.

I ordered coffee, bagels and orange juice from room service and Jane got up long enough to join me on the veranda for coffee and a bagel smothered with salmon, capers, red onion and cream cheese. She claimed everything about it was wonderful except the bagel, which she described as white bread in the shape of a bagel. Maybe we should have ordered a tortilla instead.

The sun is beginning to peek out from behind the hotel and bathe the pool in sunlight. Jane is back in bed, fast asleep. She claimed that she slept straight through the night and that it was the first time since 1982. She needs this vacation probably even more than I do.

Easter weekend, the weekend before we left, was a little stressful. On Thursday, our septic system shit the bed. On Friday, I made the executive decision to go ahead and replace more or less all the plumbing under the house and arranged for a new septic system to be installed while we're gone. Now you have to understand that Jane freaks out about who's going to clean out the cat's litter box if we go away for the weekend, so leaving our children for ten days while our plumbing is in question tends to put her over the edge. According to her, she was seriously trying to think of every way possible to cancel the vacation. On top of which she's worried about Ricky, who is home with the girls and who has struggled with school this past year. He's actually doing pretty good, but the idea that she can't be home while she worries, instead of away while she worries, is hard on her. It doesn't matter that she has no control either way. What can I say, she's a worrier.

Not anymore. We both know this about her. Once I get her on the plane, she's generally okay. Once she reaches our destination, she says she's never going home. Ricky, who? What house? Who needs plumbing? She told me as she climbed back in bed, "I'm never leaving. Just send the checks here."

Well, the beach chairs are beginning to fill up, so I think it's time to go wake Jane up and go lay in the sun. It might even be time for a cocktail. Who knows?

It's a day full of possibilities.

Neuvo Vallarta | April 14 | Day One

It was a long day.

We woke at 4am and headed to the airport for our 8am flight to Phoenix. After a brief layover in Phoenix, we were off to Puerto Vallarta, on the Pacific coast of Mexico. We changed time zones three times in two flights. What I mean by that is we went back three hours by going to Phoenix, then forward two hours by going to Puerto Vallarta, then back another hour when we crossed the bridge that separates Puerto Vallarta from Neuvo Vallarta. Even though they're only about 15 miles apart, the river is the line between Mountain time and Central. Or something like that. I'm not even really sure what time it is.


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So, being travel weary, we checked into our hotel and were blown away. We are staying in a huge suite complete with full kitchen, dishwasher, washer and dryer, jacuzzi, dining room/living room and an enormous bathroom. No to mention the master bedroom and the beautiful veranda overlooking the Pacific ocean.

After doing a little unpacking and realizing what we HADN'T packed (Jane forgot her running shoes and one flip flop and while I remembered my running shoes, I forgot BOTH my flip fops) we headed down to explore the resort.

There are two resorts actually, side by side, and we have access to the facilities at both. Mostly, this means we get to use the three restaurants at the other hotel in addition to the two at ours. We ended up sitting down at a little al fresco bistro that makes pizza. We watched the sun go down over the water, had a bottle of wine and began to relax. We realized we weren't quite ready to call it a night, so Jane switched from white wine to red wine and I switched to a Pacifico (beer) and a very good shot of tequila. Then we had a few more.

Before retiring back to our estate, we stopped by the rather large convenience store (this is much more than your average gift shop) and bought rum, wine and soda.

Once back home, Jane decided that the best thing to do would be to try out the tub/jacuzzi. She filled it with soap and turned it on. Only she couldn't figure out how to shut it off, once she got it going and pretty soon it looked like something out of a Brady Bunch episode where Peter tries to do laundry. The bubbles began to take over everything. For a few tense minutes, I thought we were either going to have to call maintenance, or just vacate. We were being overrun. If truth be told, I was concerned. Jane couldn't have been more relaxed.

We mopped up the remaining bubbles and got into bed, falling asleep to the sound of the ocean crashing on the shore.

It had been a long day.

Palm Beach, FL

Goshen, NJ

Making homemade pizza.

Santa Barbara, CA | Wine Country

_MG_4212, originally uploaded by davidmccartyphoto.

Venice, CA

Venice Beach.

Calgary, AB

In line at customs and immigration at the buttcrack of dawn.