CHAPTER 3
After two uneventful flights, the first taking us to Seattle and the second landing us in PV right around dusk. After negotiating Immigration and then Mexican Customs we grab a taxi to our southern home at the Hotel Corita.
We check in and head for our room which is poolside facing the bay. With the tide coming in heavy waves crash onto the beach pulling the sand away only to have it restored when the succeeding waves pound back in. No swimming this evening.
After the obligatory glass of wine under a palapa we head down the cobblestone street that fronts the hotel towards the center of town a quarter mile away. Not long after we’re ordering our tacos from one of the several local family food vendors which just plant their bbq carts in front of their home and start cooking. Plastic tables and chairs are set up along the curb where there is only a smattering of local traffic crawling by of which is no consequence to the diners.
The parents are the cooks, the dad shaving the pork off an upright rotisserie, and the mother making tortillas and chopping the onions, radishes, cucumbers, and lettuce for the filler. The older daughter is replenishing the different salsas and sauces on the tables and fussing with napkins and wiping the clear plastic tablecloths. The younger sibling is taking the orders and gathering up the money. Even at a young age she already has years of experience in the hospitality trade and sees which direction her life is headed. Everyone working in unison for the family business.
The rest of the night was spent reacquainting ourselves with the local haunts and then an early trip home to the hotel, room #6.
It’s said that ‘Home is where the heart is’ , but in this case ‘Home is where the hard is’ because the bed in our room was obviously made from recycled asphalt with a layer of stone on top. We’ve had 11 years of Mexican beds but this one was groundbreaking (er, backbreaking?). I usually christen a hotel bed with a reverse swan dive but this time I think I chipped a tooth (splat, oomph). Actually the hardness was mitigated by the foamie that Carol always brings to Mexico for just such an occasion. We’re always tight for space and weight in our luggage and yet the first thing packed is her foamie. It doubles as a tequila protector on the homeward journey so I grudgingly go along with it. No, the real culprit in this sleep disuader was the pillows. Basically a six pack of cobblestones wrapped in a layer of linen. My neck hurt so bad in the morning that it made my back feel good.
Actually nothing felt good in the morning because 2 young Mexican couples sat by the pool drinking beer until 2:30, laughing, and then yelling, and finally singing. The two males were all tatted up and physically fit with tight fitting t-shirts so I wasn’t about to send Carol out there to tell them to shut up (actually I tried to but she wouldn’t go, the big sissy) and the security guy was sleeping at his desk in another building, so we went the earplugs route and waited them out. We didn’t see them today so they must have been doing a drive-by for just the one night. I probably did something similar when I was 20 but I’m not 20 anymore.
Long story short, we were able to change rooms this morning with a massive upgrade to the third floor with a view of the ocean, fridge, balcony, reasonable bed, and we went out and picked up a deluxe pillow (for me, as Carol also brings her own pillow wherever we go).
So we are comfy and settled in and as we were heading up to our new deluxe accommodations an older couple was just checking in and I heard the gentleman say ‘Wow, we’ve got a poolside room overlooking the bay! Room #6.
Be careful what you wish for.
Blue Delivery 