CHAPTER 9
Dale and Donna (D&D from now on) have graced us with their presence and now we are four in our wonderful seaside residence. Dale is reasonably normal, Donna, well the jury is still out on that one.
They arrived at suppertime on Thursday and now it is suppertime on Saturday. We are all lounging on the beach, bebidas in hand and recounting today’s trip to Vallarta. Today’s trip did start a bit late as Donna’s body clock is set to Pacific Standard Time and roused 3 hours after the rest of us. Dale and I ragged on her until we finally left for the big city (as men it was our duty to harangue her because she isn’t insecure enough yet).
It takes 2 buses to reach Vallarta from Bucerias and surprisingly 2 buses to return. The quality of the transportation varies by a large amount.
On a previous trip to Vallarta we rode on an ancient version where the only available seating was over the rear axle where the suspension system had cried ‘uncle’ probably a decade ago. It was on the second leg of the trip to town and the rough cobblestone streets had me launched from my seat 3 times with a rough unpadded landing each time. On another bus the seats were so worn out that not only was there no fabric left over the cushion but the foam itself was dished and split wide enough to expose the metal grid under the seat. This also left me sitting three inches lower than normal and to see out the window I had to push myself up on the broken arms of the seat. I was like an infant slumped in their high chair being fed by their mother (very emasculating).
Finally on one other bus we were again seated near the back and a seat had been removed ( to make room for a wheelchair?, however unlikely because riding the bus could cause someone to require a wheelchair) and it looked as though the seat frame had been ripped from the metal floor as the holes left were torn and ugly. This also meant that you had to keep one foot over the largest hole to prevent the exhaust from blowing in your face.
On the plus side you get to see real Mexicans in their home environment with their children on their laps or seated in the aisle perched atop some newly purchased plastic stools.
Then there are also the local buskers that ride the bus (free) and perform usually 2 or 3 songs, some accompanied on guitar over the course of 8 or 10 stops and then pass the hat around for pesos. The quality of the entertainment varies just like the buses. On one bus with D&D we had a wonderful musician serenade us with songs in both Spanish and English. He was the best that we had ever encountered and was paid commensurately, and even received applause!
Anyways, we walked the malecon to its southernmost point, crossed over the bridge into old town Vallarta and showed them some of our favorite haunts that we’ve enjoyed over the years. The best used book store/coffee shop (a Page in the Sun) and an artisan market, our favorite hotel near the beach (The Eloisa), then trundle past the many restaurants that we’ve eaten at over the years, we shopped at the Mexican equivalent of a Dollar Store to buy the most basic items and on and on we went.
We stopped at Rishi’s El Cuance 2 Versions (hopeless name but good food) restaurant for lunch and the best margarita that we’ve had on this trip. Now well fortified we went on a quest to find Dale a new chapeau as his favorite/best one was lost only minutes into their trip. While overlooking the gaudy fluorescent yellow versions he chose the least offensive cap with Vallarta splashed across the front.
More wandering with both women being hobbled as Carol suddenly developed a knee problem and Donna constantly stubs her sandals on anything that isn’t perfectly level. (I’ve seen both girls stumble on the beach as they gaze out on the horizon). Dale and I of course have no such problem and could dance our way backwards across bumpy roads or up the non-conforming staircases that are everywhere. We are both very good at everything that we do and spend part of every day patting each other on the back.
Finally we close out the afternoon at Gabys, a great restaurant near the Church of Guadalupe, where Dale and I decide to push the envelope and enquire about the local racilla.
Racilla is another agave-based drink like tequila and mezcal that originates in Vallarta’s home state of Jalisco. It is a crude combination of moonshine and barbecue sauce (or so it tastes) and has a strong smoky scent. Our waiter was excited to share 2 samples with us (one of which we couldn’t even finish despite all 4 of us taking turns on the single ounce serving). Yet while we can dance backwards up staircases Dale and I lack the good sense to leave well enough alone and each ordered a racilla-based margarita, a poor choice indeed. The girls ordered the regular version and had no sympathy for our plight. They smiled and chatted as I was left to stare into my glass and hope that my intestines wouldn’t punish me too badly later in the day.
While the waiter was thrilled at our adventurous spirit and kept an eye on us from the shadows it was all I could to stop from gagging with each sip. On the plus side it did keep us on the premises longer so we could enjoy the wonderful ambiance.
There was a potted cactus nearby and I briefly contemplated the ‘earth to earth, agave to agave’ axiom but the waiter was sneaking a glance every time he went by and I sucked it up (or down as it might be).
Off we went and caught our 2 buses home, both solid examples of late 20th century technology and we eventually retired with more new experiences to put under our belts.
Blue Delivery 