A SUMMER TO REMEMBER 
Thursday, July 27, 2006
I don’t know why but I have always enjoyed the hot days of summer. Granted, I do not like the humid heat that can accompany temperatures in the 90’s. However, my early years on a farm in Southern Indiana prepared me for “coping” with the heat – and to a lesser extent, humidity. Certainly, I didn’t have the luxury of air conditioning. Indeed, we did not even have electricity so no electric fans either. My dad, a farmer, worked the fields in the boiling hot sun of summer with only an occasional break under the shade of a tree to wipe his brow and survey the job that had to be done if the family was to have food in the coming winter. Those were not times for “sissies”. I learned early on to cope with life not as I would like it, but as it was. Sometimes I wonder if our youth of today might not be better served if they learned that lesson as well.
Thus, when a “family” bare boat sailing adventure to the sunny Caribbean was contemplated, I felt concern for the hot nights aboard a boat with out air conditioning, but otherwise, I felt that I could cope. Cope we did and when, after two weeks in the sunny Caribbean, we returned home to California to embrace the 100 degree temperatures of Southern California’s heat wave, I longed to be back on the cool waters of the Caribbean.
This was our sixth or seventh bare boat charter in the Virgin Islands. I’ve lost count. Our first charter was in 1979 and since that time, we have chartered both in the US Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands as well as the Bahamas and the Grenadines.
Through the years we have grown to appreciate the higher level of welcome that seems to exist in the British Virgin Islands and for that reason, we have gained a greater appreciation for their hospitality over that of the US Virgins. There is no doubt that the attitude of those who are in the “service oriented” industry plays an important role in the choices of places to which we wish to return. I marvel that so few business people seem to recognize that their success depends on the image that their employees portray of them and make so little effort to train their employees to be pleasant. Further, I cannot believe that the employees themselves are not enlightened enough to recognize that their job security is directly related to their employers success but alas, loyalty of employee/employer has waned through the years. Ah well, I digress.
Inasmuch as we sold our own sail boat over ten years ago, and our last sailing charter was in 1996, we considered our sailing days were over. Thus, when our nephew, John Baum, expressed an interest in chartering in the Virgin Islands, Ken and I were both excited and contemplative. Were we too old?
Not wishing to accept age as a factor, we contacted North South Yacht Vacations, a company that we chartered from during our last trip to the VI and one that Don, Ken’s brother has used on two occasions. We arranged for a two week charter of a 50 foot Beneteau sail boat and agreed with John that he and his friends would take the first week of the charter and we would take the 2nd week for our family.
Since our first trip in 1979, we have dreamed of sharing a sailing vacation in the Caribbean with our children. Our dream was partially fulfilled with our daughter, Terri; son, Gary; granddaughter, Lauren, along with nephew John, niece Joy Neely and a friend, Kitty Van Horn and her grandson, RJ along with John’s friends, Will Wong and Scott Buswell. We enjoyed Scott and Will and have decided to include them in our extended family. Our jubilation was tempered by the absence of our daughter in law, Marci and grandson, Sean. Marci’s work and Sean’s baseball commitments kept them from sharing the experience. If life should be so good as to give us another chance, we hope that someday they too might share a similar “outing”. Marci and Sean – perhaps the Bahamas?
North South Yacht Vacations did a great job and exercised great diligence in their effort to assure us a safe, happy and wonderful experience. Their boats are older and thus, more affordable for our “fixed income” status, but they do lack the amenities of the “modern” age. However, the staff worked hard and diligently to provide whatever assistance we required for a memorable sailing experience. Any problems that we experienced were certainly within the range of what could be anticipated in an older boat and as the former owners of an “older” boat, we have first hand experience.
North South recently moved from Nanny Cay to Village Cay on the island of Tortola and they are undergoing the “pains of relocation” which complicated communications but otherwise, minor problems were dealt with competently. We especially thank Mike, the mechanic, Chandi, the manager and Tamara (sp?), the secretary as well as all of the staff that made our charter a delightful experience. We would definitely recommend checking North South Yacht Vacations out if you are considering a BVI charter. Our boat was clean, well equipped with towels and linens and not a single bug was sighted, a miracle in itself for the tropics. Some attention to the “Galley” utensils would be useful but otherwise, NO PROBLEM MON!
I will do a more comprehensive report on our family adventures and fun on the “high seas” later, but for now, here are a few pictures
JOHN AND SCOTT WITH WIND IN THEIR SAILS -AND THE WILLIE T
COOPER ISLAND AND ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?
SANDY CAY -- KITTY AND PAT REMEMBER MARVIS (EXCUSE OUR SPELLING) AND BOB
CATCHING UP WITH THE NEWS
Thus, when a “family” bare boat sailing adventure to the sunny Caribbean was contemplated, I felt concern for the hot nights aboard a boat with out air conditioning, but otherwise, I felt that I could cope. Cope we did and when, after two weeks in the sunny Caribbean, we returned home to California to embrace the 100 degree temperatures of Southern California’s heat wave, I longed to be back on the cool waters of the Caribbean.
This was our sixth or seventh bare boat charter in the Virgin Islands. I’ve lost count. Our first charter was in 1979 and since that time, we have chartered both in the US Virgin Islands and the British Virgin Islands as well as the Bahamas and the Grenadines.
Through the years we have grown to appreciate the higher level of welcome that seems to exist in the British Virgin Islands and for that reason, we have gained a greater appreciation for their hospitality over that of the US Virgins. There is no doubt that the attitude of those who are in the “service oriented” industry plays an important role in the choices of places to which we wish to return. I marvel that so few business people seem to recognize that their success depends on the image that their employees portray of them and make so little effort to train their employees to be pleasant. Further, I cannot believe that the employees themselves are not enlightened enough to recognize that their job security is directly related to their employers success but alas, loyalty of employee/employer has waned through the years. Ah well, I digress.
Inasmuch as we sold our own sail boat over ten years ago, and our last sailing charter was in 1996, we considered our sailing days were over. Thus, when our nephew, John Baum, expressed an interest in chartering in the Virgin Islands, Ken and I were both excited and contemplative. Were we too old?
Not wishing to accept age as a factor, we contacted North South Yacht Vacations, a company that we chartered from during our last trip to the VI and one that Don, Ken’s brother has used on two occasions. We arranged for a two week charter of a 50 foot Beneteau sail boat and agreed with John that he and his friends would take the first week of the charter and we would take the 2nd week for our family.
Since our first trip in 1979, we have dreamed of sharing a sailing vacation in the Caribbean with our children. Our dream was partially fulfilled with our daughter, Terri; son, Gary; granddaughter, Lauren, along with nephew John, niece Joy Neely and a friend, Kitty Van Horn and her grandson, RJ along with John’s friends, Will Wong and Scott Buswell. We enjoyed Scott and Will and have decided to include them in our extended family. Our jubilation was tempered by the absence of our daughter in law, Marci and grandson, Sean. Marci’s work and Sean’s baseball commitments kept them from sharing the experience. If life should be so good as to give us another chance, we hope that someday they too might share a similar “outing”. Marci and Sean – perhaps the Bahamas?
North South Yacht Vacations did a great job and exercised great diligence in their effort to assure us a safe, happy and wonderful experience. Their boats are older and thus, more affordable for our “fixed income” status, but they do lack the amenities of the “modern” age. However, the staff worked hard and diligently to provide whatever assistance we required for a memorable sailing experience. Any problems that we experienced were certainly within the range of what could be anticipated in an older boat and as the former owners of an “older” boat, we have first hand experience.
North South recently moved from Nanny Cay to Village Cay on the island of Tortola and they are undergoing the “pains of relocation” which complicated communications but otherwise, minor problems were dealt with competently. We especially thank Mike, the mechanic, Chandi, the manager and Tamara (sp?), the secretary as well as all of the staff that made our charter a delightful experience. We would definitely recommend checking North South Yacht Vacations out if you are considering a BVI charter. Our boat was clean, well equipped with towels and linens and not a single bug was sighted, a miracle in itself for the tropics. Some attention to the “Galley” utensils would be useful but otherwise, NO PROBLEM MON!
I will do a more comprehensive report on our family adventures and fun on the “high seas” later, but for now, here are a few pictures
JOHN AND SCOTT WITH WIND IN THEIR SAILS -AND THE WILLIE T
COOPER ISLAND AND ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?
SANDY CAY -- KITTY AND PAT REMEMBER MARVIS (EXCUSE OUR SPELLING) AND BOB
CATCHING UP WITH THE NEWS
> FAVORITE SON AND FAVORITE GRANDDAUGHTER<
>> FAVORITE DAUGHTER
>> FAVORITE DAUGHTER<<
RJ AT THE WHEEL AND ON STAGE
RJ AT THE WHEEL AND ON STAGE
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
NOW THAT THE FIREWORKS ARE OVER
Hope you all had a wonderful holiday. Our freedoms are so precious and in my opinion, too little thought is given to the thankless job of maintaining that which we enjoy. If we do not think beyond today or tomorrow – none of it matters much – but if we stop to consider the price paid by our founding fathers and those who have fought to preserve their vision, I believe that we are mostly unworthy of their sacrifices. Nevertheless, never have I felt so committed to my country and the freedoms that we are provided.
Tonight Ken and I will be departing LAX on the “redeye” for St Thomas and our ultimate destination, Road Town in the British Virgin Islands. We hope to liaison with nephew John Baum at the airport in St Thomas en route to the ferry to Tortola but we have just barely one hour to catch the last ferry from Charlotte Amalee. Thus, we will not spend much time looking for each other in our haste to get to the ferry but if we are successful in making our connection, we will celebrate with a rum and coke and “let the party begin”.
John’s friends, Will and Scott will join us aboard our charter, The Lady Jay II for the first week. We will meet Will and Scott at the North South docks in The Inner Harbour Marina. Friday we will hoist our sail for Norman Island and our first night on the high seas.
For those of you who are “web” friendly, you may get a daily refresher on the weather at:
http://www.wunderground.com/global/stations/78550.html.
We ask that you pray for light winds, low humidity, cool temperatures, no clouds and lots of sun. Amen.
Tonight Ken and I will be departing LAX on the “redeye” for St Thomas and our ultimate destination, Road Town in the British Virgin Islands. We hope to liaison with nephew John Baum at the airport in St Thomas en route to the ferry to Tortola but we have just barely one hour to catch the last ferry from Charlotte Amalee. Thus, we will not spend much time looking for each other in our haste to get to the ferry but if we are successful in making our connection, we will celebrate with a rum and coke and “let the party begin”.
John’s friends, Will and Scott will join us aboard our charter, The Lady Jay II for the first week. We will meet Will and Scott at the North South docks in The Inner Harbour Marina. Friday we will hoist our sail for Norman Island and our first night on the high seas.
For those of you who are “web” friendly, you may get a daily refresher on the weather at:
http://www.wunderground.com/global/stations/78550.html.
We ask that you pray for light winds, low humidity, cool temperatures, no clouds and lots of sun. Amen.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Our friends John and Doreen Chappel in Cornwall, England sent this along to us. Thought you might enjoy it as an alternative to my usual "yap". John says it really happened.
It is from ..."the transcript of a booklet published in 1893 by or on behalf of W. Herbert Thomas. Many thanks to Michael Kiernan for a copy of the original.
TELLEE about Wheal Owles, sir—the flooded Cornish mine!
’Ow the waters chuck’d the levels where the sun don’t never shine;
’Ow the twenty men are lyin’—stark, lifeless, lumps of clay,
Where the rushin’ torrent wash’d thum when the rock-wall brawk away.
Tellee about the blastin’, and the frantic climb to “grass”? (a)
Iss, sure. I’ll try to tellee ’ow the whole thing cum to pass;
Th>o’ you knaw I aren’t a schollard, cause my school was Wheal Owles bal, (b)
An ’my pen was a three poun’ hammer, an’ my books some stones to spal.
Ef you look across the valley, past the crafts an’ hedges there,
You can see the ’count-house standin’ top the hillside brown an’ bare,
An’ the shaft es by the cliff, sir, where the restless ocean rolls,
An’ under the sea some levels was drove from old Wheal Owles.
Ef you went down at Botallack, or Levant p’r’aps you’ve heard tell
’Ow above your head the boulders would haive with the billows’ swell;
An’ you’d hear them gratin’, runblin’, ’bove the forty-fathom end,
An’ you’d clemb the ladders quicker than you managed to descend.
But I’m mixin’ up my story, as I fear’d I shud ’ave done,
For my head is mizzy maazy fer sence this whistness(d) ’ave begun,
An’ you wudden feel quite fitty(e) ef you met Death faace to faace,
An’ weth roarin’ drownin’ waters you ’ad a fearful chaase’
Aw, sir, I caan't set quiet, fur the gasldy thing do stir
Every drop of blood within me, an’ I’ll tellee plainly, sir,
Tho’ they said my nerve was steady an’ head level through et all,
I dream of a Hell of water, which in thunderin’ floods do fall:
It happen’d a Tuesday mornen, this awful accident,
We were all ave us forenoon core, sir, an’ w’en from home I went
I took my crowst(f) from the missus an’ gov her a parten kiss,
An’ we knaw’d no more than the dead, sir, ’ow things wud ’ave gone amiss.
I wus haaf way down the valley w’en I found I’d come away
Thouse(g) my under-groun’ clothes—for Monday, at St. Just, es washin’ day:
So I started back in a hurry, an’ got to the cottage-door,
An’ said ef I stay’d more’n a minute I’d be late for the forenoon core.
My under-groun’ suit was ready, but my wife looked fine un queer;
An’ I says, “W’y wass the matter!” and says she, “I’ve took a fear,
For you knaw tes allus unlucky to come back when goin’ to work,”
An’ she looked as white as a witch, sir, an’ cold as that blacken’d churk.
It gave me a bit of a twingle, but I laugh’d to aise her mind,
An’ I aren’t so superstitious as some men you may find,
But the fear come back, she told me, as soon as I was gone,
An’ the fearful thing that happen’d was worse than she thought upon.
At the bal we met the cappen—I main Cappen Tom Tregear—
As straight a man as a mother cud ever have an’ rear,
An’ we got our strings ave candles an’ fuse an’ dynamite,
For to blast the ground down under, an’ to have a bit of light.
Then we all clemb’d down the ladders, about forty men, all told,
An’ up through the shaft to daylight we sung, an’ the sound uproll’d,
For we had some brae fine (h) singers from the Bible Christian choir,
An’ we like to tuney below, sir, or around a blacksmith’s fire.
We sung “In the sweet by-an-bye,” sir, ’bout the beautiful golden shore,
Where we hope we shall some day gather, an’ never to part any more;
But we never thought Death was waitin’ to beckon us over the tide,
An’ that mornen haaf ave our number wud cross to the other side!
So we clembed to the lower levels of the damp an’ slimy ground
Where the candles smoked an’ sputtered, an’ the tin an’ copper es found;
An’ we went to the stopes an’ winzes an’ ends where the lode ave ore
Es blasted an’ rulled in the waggons by miners every core.
I’ad shut one hole an’ was usin’ the hammer an’ pickers there,
When a sound like ten thousand thunders broke out through the heated air,
An’ I heard the rush an’ the roarin’, like the burstin’ of a tide,
An’ “Water! The mine is flooded! Run for your lives!” I cried.
My comrades were stunned with the horror, an’ I might ’ave stood there too,
Like a lump of lead or a statue, an’ not knaw’d what to do,
But I well remember’d the floodin’ of the next bal, old Wheal Drea,
When the water of East Boscean broke through an’ wash’d me away.
As quick as a flash of lightnin’ I hurried the men an’ boys
Into the empty waggon; an’, urged on by the noise
Of the roarin’, risin’ water that swamped the works below,
I pushed the load through the level so fast as my legs would go.
One lad fell out of the waggon, down eighteen feet to a plot
But Jim bent down as he clemb’d up, an’ the boy’s hand quickly caught,
An’ hualed(j) him up so aisy, did that fear’d excited man,
As ef but a pound of candles, or awnly a onion stran.
Then on to the shaft we rumbled, while a lad who run’d before
Shriek’d lest the waggon should crush him, as it onward madly tore,
An’ dodgin’ the rocks out-juttin’ by one candle that kept alight
In the rush of the wind, we managed to reach the shaft all right.
Up through the shaft came wailin’ the cries of the drownin’ men,
Strugglin’ in darkness with torrents that roll’d down again an’ again,
Till the gashly an’ helpless bodies sunk down like lifeless stones,
An’ the roar of the hungry water swallowed their dyin’ groans.
By the skin of their teeth some escaped, sir, by climben chains hand over hand,
An’ some, who took the wrong turning, near went to the sperrit land,
Some were haaled up by the winches, an’ some who fell off the way
Were helped again on to the ladders or would not be living to-day.
Down below is a rever of water, a mile an’ half long, for sure,
Through three mines’ deep under-ground workin’s, an’ p’r’aps a good many more,
For a pare(k) of our men was drivin an’ cut into old Wheal Drea,
Where the thousand-tons water was pressin’, an’ burst through Cargodna that day.
A blunder? Ah yes, ’twas a blunder, for our plans shawed solid ground
Where the men at the sixty-five level a hollowed-out place must have found:
You see, sir, they worked for metals in our bals in days of old,
When Solomon decked out es Temple with tin an’ with jewels an’ gold;
So we’re hedged in with scals(l) of dangers, an’ tes little enough we get
To keep body and soul together, but we aren’t the sort to fret
W’en we come up to the sunlight an’ can in our homes abide,
But ’tes hard when homes are waitin’ for bodies beneath the tide.
So that es the awful story of the floodin’ of Wheal Owles,
Thas ’ow the blinds are lowered an’ the Church-bell sadly tolls;
The mine is now a grave-yard, an’ the levels are the graves,
An’ the miners’ dust there slumbers near the wild Atlantic waves!
W. HERBERT THOMAS
ON Tuesday, January 10th, 1893, nineteen men and a lad were drowned in the Cargodna part of Wheal Owles Mine, St. Just, Cornwall, by a pare of the forty miners having, it is believed, blasted and tapped the accumulated and connected water in the abandoned workings of Wheal Drea (in Wheal Owles sett) and East Boscean; the pool of water now extending a mile and a half from St. Just Churchtown to thirty fathoms under the Atlantic ocean. This was the most terrible mining accident in Cornwall since the waterspout, or tremendous waterfall, which burst over East and North Wheal Rose Mine, in the Newlyn East district, on the 9th of July, 1846, when fifty-three men were drowned and others injured by the flood carrying a portion of a burrow, or waste-heap, into the shaft.
The miners drowned in Wheal Owles were—James Williams, Richard Williams, M. Taylor, William Roberts, Louis Wilkins, W. J. Thomas, John Grose, Thomas Grose, Peter Dale, James Rowe, J. Taylor, T. Ellis, J. Olds, Edward White, Charles H. Thomas, James E. Trembath, Thomas Allen, William Eddy, James Thomas, and W. J. Davey. [see the newspaper reports for a discussion regarding the actual names.]
Twenty other miners, who were working in shallower levels or nearer the shaft, had an exciting race to the ladders and climbed up before the water could over-take them. Some would have been drowned but for the heroism of James Hall (popularly known as “Farmer” Hall), who pushed some of his comrades in front of him in a tram waggon, and afterwards went back to guide others who were going in the wrong direction; and of James Bottrell, who stopped and pulled up Michael Harvey and Thomas Angwin by a winch from a winze in the 45 fathom level, after clearing the rope which had become jammed in the timber, and by the light of one candle that was not extinguished by the rushing wind, reached the shaft and hurried to the surface. These intrepid miners, by waiting several minutes to save their comrades, were closely pursued by the uprising flood of water, which nearly reached the 30 fathom level by the time they had climbed out of danger.
But for the bursting of a pump in another part of the mine, causing a little delay, Captain Tom Tregear and John Leggo would have been in the lower levels inspecting the ground, and, would doubtless, have shared the fate of the submerged miners.
A strong endeavour will be made to form a Limited Liability Company, with a capital of £20,000, to work the three connected and flooded mines, which would revive the declining industry in St. Just parish. [this never happened]
A relief fund in aid of the widows, orphans, and other bereaved and dependent relatives, was promptly opened, and the responses have been so generous that the £3,500 which the Committee estimate they will want to meet these particular cases have already been subscribed. In some instances a lump sum of £50 will terminate the liability: but in most cases widows will receive 6s per week, and 2s per week for each child until it reaches the age of fourteen. There will be an annual revision of allowances. If widows re-marry or misconduct themselves, only their children will receive relief. About £350 will be expended in the first year, and, in addition, the miners thrown out of work by the disaster receive £100 from the County Miner’s Distress Fund.
Mr. Joseph Martin, Her Majesty’s Inspector of Mines for this district, saw that this was an appropriate time for organising a County Miners’ Benevolant Fund. His suggestion was first published and approved by “The Cornishman,” and was sympathetically received in the Camborne and Redruth district, as it will provide for the sufferers in single accidents, which happen only too frequently in our mines, and which occasion as intense individual distress as a calamity involving a large number of persons.
Committees were formed at Camborne and Redruth and met the St. Just Committee at Penzance on February 2nd, when it was resolved that any sum received in excess of the £3,500, be transferred to the County Fund, and if experience proves that the £3,500 will not be exhausted in relieving the Wheal Owles sufferers, any surplus will also be added to the County Fund.
It is to be hoped, therefore, that the friends of the miners, especially the landlords in receipt of mine dues, other wealthy persons, and Cornish miners who are receiving higher wages in foreign countries than the meagre earnings of their Comrades in Cornwall, will continue to forward whatever assistance they can afford, knowing that it will be judiciously expended in relieving suffering occasioned by the hazardous nature of our mining industry.
(a) Surface, (b) Mine, (c) Confused, (d) Trouble, (e) Clear-headed, (f) Lunch, (g) without, (h) Good, (j) Pulled, (k) Band, (l) Many.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Our last night at Playa Amor, Ken became ill during dinner. The next morning he complained of chills and complained that he had not slept well. I suggested that we stay over another day in Playa Amor but he was ready to go. We had been on the road no more than three hours when Ken asked Bill (Bill and Diane were the “lead” coach) to stop at the next opportunity. They were quick to respond and proved to be our “rock of Gibralter” then and throughout our siege. For Ken to acknowledge that he needed to stop, we knew he was sick. Ken is not one to admit frailty.
As I gave Ken medicine, I saw that he was shaking badly. I took his temperature and it was 101.9. Bill and Diane agreed that he should go to a Doctor. Diane had seen a hospital sign on the road a short ways back so we decided to take him there. Bill stayed with the coaches while Diane accompanied me to the hospital emergency room where tests were run and IVs started. Food poisoning was the diagnosis. They gave him four prescriptions and discharged him.
We drove on to the next town, had the prescriptions filled and stopped for the night. The next morning Wednesday, he was not much better but thought he was well enough to drive the approximately 1 and ½ hours to Mazatlan. By the time we arrived Mazatlan, he had reached his tolerance level and once we were parked, he went immediately to bed. By Saturday he showed little improvement. We called a local Dr. Who came to the RV. He determined that the medicine prescribed in the emergency room was not strong enough and prescribed a shot each day for five days with three stronger prescriptions. Since I do not give shots, Rosita, the manager of the RV Park came each day and shot him. The highlight of his illness was having Rosita come each day to give him his shot. Rosita is a lovely lady who is extremely competent, pleasant and a great representative for Mexican hospitality. Ken seemed to get a little better each day and on Wednesday accompanied me to the store. Thursday we had lunch out and on Friday did a drive about and lunch. We thought he was making good progress. Saturday morning he went with a local painter to pick up some matt for a picture that he wanted painted of a Mexican landscape. When he returned, he said he didn’t feel well and lay down for a nap. When he woke up, he blacked out momentarily as he was getting up. I told him we were going to the emergency room and Bill came over to drive us. Ken insisted that we wait a few minutes and Bill said he would return in 30 minutes. While we waited, Ken tried to get up again and fainted. I rushed to get Bill to help me and Diane to called an ambulance. When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics immediately started an IV and transported him to the hospital just five minutes from the RV park. In the emergency room, his blood count was 8.5 and his blood pressure 55/30. They could not get a vein from which to insert an IV or take blood. Finally, they went into the main artery in the neck. He was bleeding internally but they were unsure from where. They admitted him to ICU and advised me that he needed blood which was type O negative and hard to find.
The next morning his blood count was down to 5 and still, no blood. In the meantime, the Doctor was concerned about his kidneys because they were not functioning properly, the Doctor thought perhaps because of the low blood pressure and extended period dehydration. Word was put out at the RV Park that we had a desperate need for type O negative blood. Diane and others were tested but none were of the right type. After talking with the Dr. on Sunday morning I called Terri and asked her to call our emergency medical air transport insurer to initiate a request for possible medical evacuation. By mid afternoon on Sunday, I was alarmed that we had not been able to locate any donors with suitable blood type. Ken’s blood count was falling and his blood pressure was alarmingly low. The intern on duty tried to reassure me that blood would be available on Monday, but I was more than pessimistic.
As I was preparing to leave the hospital on Sunday evening, Ken developed extreme nausea and begin hemorrhaging. With that development they immediately diagnosed his condition as a bleeding ulcer, rushed him to emergency and endoscopitically cloterized the bleeding ulcer. Fortunately, one of the nurses in emergency was O negative and gave a pint of blood which may have saved his life. I later learned that during the surgery his blood count dropped to 3.3. On Monday a 2nd pint of blood was donated by another nurse who attended him in ICU. Those two donors may have saved his life.
On Monday, our Medical Air Services Association arranged to have Ken air lifted to McAllen, Texas on Tuesday morning. I was permitted to travel with him along with the nurse and paramedic that MASA flew in to accompany him to McAllen. The hospital was expecting him, an ambulance awaited us at the airport and Ken was admitted to the Rio Grand Regional Hospital ICU, given another four prints of blood. He was in ICU until Thursday and released from the hospital on Wednesday, March 22.
Our friends Bruce and Gwelda Haselman drove from Albuquerque New Mexico to McAllen and drove us back to Cottonwood, Arizona where we were reunited with our RV. Due to Ken’s extended illness, Ken’s brother Don had decided to fly into Mazatlan to travel back with us in the RV. When Ken was admitted to the hospital, our insurer approved his flight in a day early and okay him to drive the RV back to the States. We left Cottonwood Saturday, March 25 and arrived home Sunday, March 26, three months from the date of our departure, December 26.
This experience has given us a renewed awareness of the value of family and friends. During our trip and during our crises, we were blessed with wonderful traveling companions who were so very kind in their support and concern. We never felt alone and we knew they would not abandon us. A better or finer group of traveling companions would be hard to find.
A special thanks to our daughter, Terri, who coordinated the arrangements with our insurer, Medical Air Services Association; to Ken’s brother, Don, who was there for us and safely returned our coach to the US and to our friends and wagon masters, Diane and Bill Herbert whose compassion and understanding never wavered. We will never forget the generosity of our friends, Bruce and Gwelda Haselman who dropped everything and drove from Albuquerque to McAllen Texas and delivered us safely to Cottonwood, Arizona.
Bruce and Gwelda and their family are not just friends, they are extended family. We hope that we can be there for them should a similar occasion develop and they need us. Words are insufficient to acknowledge the kindness of those who helped us and kept us in their thoughts and prayers. As inadequate as the words may be, we thank you all. We feel blessed by both our family and our family of friends.
As I gave Ken medicine, I saw that he was shaking badly. I took his temperature and it was 101.9. Bill and Diane agreed that he should go to a Doctor. Diane had seen a hospital sign on the road a short ways back so we decided to take him there. Bill stayed with the coaches while Diane accompanied me to the hospital emergency room where tests were run and IVs started. Food poisoning was the diagnosis. They gave him four prescriptions and discharged him.
We drove on to the next town, had the prescriptions filled and stopped for the night. The next morning Wednesday, he was not much better but thought he was well enough to drive the approximately 1 and ½ hours to Mazatlan. By the time we arrived Mazatlan, he had reached his tolerance level and once we were parked, he went immediately to bed. By Saturday he showed little improvement. We called a local Dr. Who came to the RV. He determined that the medicine prescribed in the emergency room was not strong enough and prescribed a shot each day for five days with three stronger prescriptions. Since I do not give shots, Rosita, the manager of the RV Park came each day and shot him. The highlight of his illness was having Rosita come each day to give him his shot. Rosita is a lovely lady who is extremely competent, pleasant and a great representative for Mexican hospitality. Ken seemed to get a little better each day and on Wednesday accompanied me to the store. Thursday we had lunch out and on Friday did a drive about and lunch. We thought he was making good progress. Saturday morning he went with a local painter to pick up some matt for a picture that he wanted painted of a Mexican landscape. When he returned, he said he didn’t feel well and lay down for a nap. When he woke up, he blacked out momentarily as he was getting up. I told him we were going to the emergency room and Bill came over to drive us. Ken insisted that we wait a few minutes and Bill said he would return in 30 minutes. While we waited, Ken tried to get up again and fainted. I rushed to get Bill to help me and Diane to called an ambulance. When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics immediately started an IV and transported him to the hospital just five minutes from the RV park. In the emergency room, his blood count was 8.5 and his blood pressure 55/30. They could not get a vein from which to insert an IV or take blood. Finally, they went into the main artery in the neck. He was bleeding internally but they were unsure from where. They admitted him to ICU and advised me that he needed blood which was type O negative and hard to find.
The next morning his blood count was down to 5 and still, no blood. In the meantime, the Doctor was concerned about his kidneys because they were not functioning properly, the Doctor thought perhaps because of the low blood pressure and extended period dehydration. Word was put out at the RV Park that we had a desperate need for type O negative blood. Diane and others were tested but none were of the right type. After talking with the Dr. on Sunday morning I called Terri and asked her to call our emergency medical air transport insurer to initiate a request for possible medical evacuation. By mid afternoon on Sunday, I was alarmed that we had not been able to locate any donors with suitable blood type. Ken’s blood count was falling and his blood pressure was alarmingly low. The intern on duty tried to reassure me that blood would be available on Monday, but I was more than pessimistic.
As I was preparing to leave the hospital on Sunday evening, Ken developed extreme nausea and begin hemorrhaging. With that development they immediately diagnosed his condition as a bleeding ulcer, rushed him to emergency and endoscopitically cloterized the bleeding ulcer. Fortunately, one of the nurses in emergency was O negative and gave a pint of blood which may have saved his life. I later learned that during the surgery his blood count dropped to 3.3. On Monday a 2nd pint of blood was donated by another nurse who attended him in ICU. Those two donors may have saved his life.
On Monday, our Medical Air Services Association arranged to have Ken air lifted to McAllen, Texas on Tuesday morning. I was permitted to travel with him along with the nurse and paramedic that MASA flew in to accompany him to McAllen. The hospital was expecting him, an ambulance awaited us at the airport and Ken was admitted to the Rio Grand Regional Hospital ICU, given another four prints of blood. He was in ICU until Thursday and released from the hospital on Wednesday, March 22.
Our friends Bruce and Gwelda Haselman drove from Albuquerque New Mexico to McAllen and drove us back to Cottonwood, Arizona where we were reunited with our RV. Due to Ken’s extended illness, Ken’s brother Don had decided to fly into Mazatlan to travel back with us in the RV. When Ken was admitted to the hospital, our insurer approved his flight in a day early and okay him to drive the RV back to the States. We left Cottonwood Saturday, March 25 and arrived home Sunday, March 26, three months from the date of our departure, December 26.
This experience has given us a renewed awareness of the value of family and friends. During our trip and during our crises, we were blessed with wonderful traveling companions who were so very kind in their support and concern. We never felt alone and we knew they would not abandon us. A better or finer group of traveling companions would be hard to find.
A special thanks to our daughter, Terri, who coordinated the arrangements with our insurer, Medical Air Services Association; to Ken’s brother, Don, who was there for us and safely returned our coach to the US and to our friends and wagon masters, Diane and Bill Herbert whose compassion and understanding never wavered. We will never forget the generosity of our friends, Bruce and Gwelda Haselman who dropped everything and drove from Albuquerque to McAllen Texas and delivered us safely to Cottonwood, Arizona.
Bruce and Gwelda and their family are not just friends, they are extended family. We hope that we can be there for them should a similar occasion develop and they need us. Words are insufficient to acknowledge the kindness of those who helped us and kept us in their thoughts and prayers. As inadequate as the words may be, we thank you all. We feel blessed by both our family and our family of friends.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
PLAYA AMOR FEB 14 -28 2006
Our “renegade” caravan joined us from their Puerto Vallarta outing. Kay had a reaction to camerones (shrimp) as well as a severe infection and required hospitalization while in Puerto Vallarta. We were glad to see that she was much improved after her four day stay in the hospital and it was good to see everyone. Kay expressed grateful appreciation for the care she received both from the hospital staff and the doctors in Puerto Vallarta. She reported that the hospital was modern, exceptionally clean and expressed an opinion that the hospitals in Canada could benefit from their example. The group all seemed impressed with the care and quality of the hospital which, for those who are traveling in Mexico, is reassuring.
Wednesday, we did a day trip to Puerto Vallarta with “look see” stops in the villages of Ixtapan and Zacualpan. We drove through the little beach community of Penita de Jaltemba and stopped in Rincon for a short visit with friends of Diane and Bill. Rincon appeared to be an ideal resort, within walking distance to the village, a modern club house, pool and a lovely sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles. However, it lacked the roar of the crushing waves and the privacy of Playa Amor that we have enjoyed.
After our Rincon stop, we proceeded further south and stopped in to look at Sayulita (a lovely spot where Len and Agnes stayed a few years back). According to Bill and Diane, who are old “salts” to Mexico, the place is really growing and the number of “winter displaced” Canadians alone must contribute a goodly sum to the Mexican economy. (Bill says the difference between a Canadian and a canoe is that a canoe tips. – don’t think I should comment on that one.) We then headed into Puerto Vallarta, stopping at the Nuevo Vallarta marina for Ken to check out the boats. (He had not seen a real yacht for 10 days, so he was feeling “deprived”). We had lunch at a little restaurant on the dock and then drove into old town Puerto Vallarta.
My first impressions of the city were mixed. It is a large city, more Americanized (or should I say Canadaized?) than most of the that we have visited in Mexico and bustles with commerce and activity cities (with the exception of Lake Chapala near Guadalajara which is a “bloody colony” of Americans and Canadians). Three cruise ships were in and the beach was adorned with bikini clad sun lovers of all sizes, shapes and colors.
We concentrated on our third try decided on a hotel on the beach where the action was. The sound of waves crashing and the blaring music from the nearby establishments reminded us that these were the vibrant sounds of nature and people enjoying their holiday. Although on a five star scale, the hotel might reasonably be rated as a fading star it provided us with yet another experience in humility and appreciation for the comfort and security that we take for granted in our travel by RV. It is nice to carry your own bed, pillow, food and comfortable air conditioning or heat as the need requires.
With our base established, we had refreshments at the open bar/restaurant, took pictures, walked down the beach and enjoyed the view from the shore. We introduced ourselves to fellow patrons, Roy and Lee, from Kelowna, B. C. Canada an area familiar to Bill and Diane. (We keep wondering if anyone is still in Canada there are so many in Mexico). At Roy’s suggestion we walked the 2 ½ blocks to a Brazilian restaurant where we enjoyed the different experience of a simulated Brazilian churcheria (sp?). The adventure of the experience was fun but Ken in what I considered a “snobby” attitude, compared it to our prior experiences with the churcheria restaurants both in Brazil and in California and pronounced it lacking. I don’t know who died and left him in charge of Brazilian cuisine. I thought it was good and when in Mexico, do as the Mexicans do, right? We capped off our day with a walk over the bridge, on the boardwalk and along the beach and enjoyed the beautiful starlight night and the lights of the city.
After a quick breakfast Thursday morning we checked out of the hotel and did a drive through Gringo Gulch. Miraculously (according to Ken, horse shoe? luck according to Bill) we found the houses to which Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor escaped for their romantic liaisons during their courtship. It is easily identified by the bridge across the street from Elizabeth’s house to Richards (or vice versa). The houses, each built like a fortress, sit on a hill overlooking the bay and city. The view is breathtaking but the homes in the area are all side by side against each other with no visible yard which seems reflective of the predominant city architecture of Mexico. Perhaps there is a courtyard inside the homes, but otherwise, all of the homes seem to be abodes with little attention to yards, space or outside. Tours are supposedly available, but we did not take the time to explore that possibility. Our sightseeing concluded, we stopped for a few things at the grocery, visited the second major marina located in the city, had lunch and returned to Playa Amor where we reunited with our travel partners.
On Monday, Bill, Di, Ken and I drove into San Blas and enjoyed the jungle trip up the river, a pleasant and enjoyable boat ride. We saw several crocodiles, blue and gray herons, turtles, finches etc., but the achinga seemed to be the “resident bird” that perched on every tree. After our jungle outing, we drove into San Blas and enjoyed a delightful gourmet lunch at the Hotel Garza, a first rate restaurant that we recommend as a “must” for anyone visiting San Blas.
Tuesday we were up early to see our “renegades” off at 8 AM for their return to Mazatlan for further tests for Kaye and to enjoy the festivities of “carnaval” with Len and Agnes. We decided to forego “carnaval” in order to enjoy another week at Playa Amor. Bon voyages exchanged and feeling abandoned, we decided to explore. Diane wanted to explore a mountain road that their group traveled down on a previous voyage. She was curious to see if it was as bad as she remembered as well as she had read about some falls that were off the beaten track up that way that we might try to find. The road was not particularly “coach friendly” but maneuverable. Mid way up the hill we asked for directions to the “cascades” and they pointed “thata way”. We were off through avocado groves, bannana fields and coffee plantations, over hills and around curves, meeting an occasional pickup truck with a farmer who waved as we passed. We drove approximately 10 miles through the countryside before coming to a small village where the paved road turned into a dirt road. Uncertain, we stopped at a market where several young senioritas stood on the steps of the local “mini super” and in response to our inquiry regarding the cascades, one of the young ladies drew Bill a map. We thanked the girls, who appeared to range in ages of 15-20 all very pretty, slim and friendly. They laughed and waved back at us as we roared off down the dirt road. (Four aging teenagers, we were). After a mile or so, we met a farmer leading a horse not to water but carrying a load of bamboo) and confirmed that we were still “on course”. He verified the route and cheerfully posed for a picture “for the loco gringos”.
We turned at the road designated on the map and there just off the road sat two taxis with drivers who assured us that we could safely maneuver the road to the falls in our jeep. We drove another 1 ½ miles to the end of the road where a “viewing” site had been constructed of bamboo and looked down at the cascading falls below where people were swimming and with squeals of delight diving from the rocks. We assumed that these were the passengers from the waiting taxis and after snapping pictures from our bamboo perch, Bill, Di and I descended the rocky path to return to the jeep. Ken, presumably in search of better pictures, chose the path to another “viewing” site. The next thing we knew he was out of sight. I suspected that he had decided to explore the path to the falls which is not unusual for his “adventurous nature” but I was surprised that he would do so with others along. Bill climbed up to the viewing site to see if he could see him but nothing. After an hour, we were all growing pretty impatient and our mood (mine especially) was rapidly deteriorating.
I blew the horn on the jeep several times to no avail and if I had been in possession of the keys to the jeep, I would have seriously considered leaving him there. Finally, after approximately 1 and ½ hour he returned, excited to tell us about his adventure and not one of us cared to hear anything that he had to say. The warm climate outside did not help the frosty climate inside the car. Later, back at the coach, we all listened with a half tuned ear as he told us that the people at the falls were vacationers to Puerto Vallarta from Colorado, Oklahoma and Glendale, approximately three streets over from us. It is a small world.
Wednesday - Bill and Diane came by and we pondered what to do with our day. Bill suggested that we could drive to Puerto Vallarta to return a brake drum that he had bought for his VW and Ken had a pair of shorts that could be returned, so why not? We closed up the rigs, piled in the jeep and we were off to Puerto Vallarta. Our first stop was at the Pelican (Mexico’s super market version of Walmart) to exchange Ken’s shorts and then on to lunch at the marina which turned out to be worth the trip in itself. We did a quick survey of the restaurants at the marina and found one that was really “jiving” and decided to try it in spite of Bill’s reluctance to “do fish”. It turned out to be a wonderful lunch. Bill and Diane shared a fish taco lunch, Ken and I shared a fish sampler and all of us had more than we could eat. Two shrimps accompanied our beers and our lunch included a cup of soup and concluded with fried plantains and a toddy made with kuhula. Beyond a doubt, it was one of the best and most reasonable meals of our trip and we have had very few bad ones.
After our more than ample lunch, we stopped at Walmart for a few items, returned the break drum and during a stop for pictures at a view overlooking the valley, saw whales cavorting in the water below. All of that in one day and still, we were home before dark.
On Friday, we were up early for our excursion to Mexicalitain, another interesting and fascinating adventure. We traveled from San Blas up Highway 15 to Vila Hildalgo, where we turned left to Santiago and over a bridge that took us into an expansive and prosperous appearing farming delta. We did a brief stop in Santiago to walk through a market of sorts (more like a swap meet). As we carefully wound our way down the narrow cobblestone streets, we became curious about the activity at the town square. People were gathered, bands were in full dress and of course, the proverbial speakers were performing. Curious, we stopped, did a walk about and enjoyed the “confusion”. Ken surmised that a High School band contest was just concluding and that we had missed the “main event”. We, nevertheless, felt like we had at least experienced the fringe of local excitement and that delighted our cultural senses.
We were surprised to find that Highway 78 leading to the island of Mexicalitain was a good paved road much better than the heavily traveled Highway 15 down the coast from Mazatlan into Tepic. At the end of the road, we parked and boarded “small boats” for the 10 minute trip to one of the oldest communities in Mexico, a village that dates back to the mid 1500's. According to our tour book, many of the residents have never been off the island. The village has one hotel, two restaurants and small boats provide rapid transit to the villagers. The tour book said that some of the residents have never been off the island and there was no reason for us to doubt that as fact. The nearest town is Santiago, down the delta approximately 10 miles. The only obvious enterprise is fishing but surprisingly, the standard of living in that small village seemed more compatible with my concept of a typical Mexican village than most. It was cleaner, no litter on the streets, no graffitti, workmen were painting and doing building maintenance and there was a “pride” reflected in the overall appearance.
Bill and Di, Ken and I each shared a lunch of camarones at a restaurant where we exchanged greetings with a German tourist on a two month bus trip through Mexico. He was leaving for Mazatlan the next day to attend carnival and then planned to travel back to Mexico City for his return flight home. (Mexico appears to be a favorite “winter” visit for Europeans as well as Canadians. On our bus trip from San Blas to Guadalajara, we traveled with a couple (he was from Budapest and she was from Amsterdam) who were traveling by bus throughout Mexico.) A couple from Colorado came in and kibitzed with us as well. We are always delighted to be able to share a communication with English speaking travelers. After lunch, we walked around the island village, explored several streets, visited the hotel, museum, shopped and took lots of pictures. Soon, it was time to leave so we returned to the landing, boarded our boat back to the delta and returned home via the route from whence we came. It was a memorable highlight and peek into a quaint Mexican lifestyle in a trip with many fascinating adventures and explorations.
On Saturday we decided to try the oysters which are one of the main resources of the area. Bill prepared baked oysters which were tasty and quite good. Ken tried cooking a dozen oysters on the grill but that turned out to be a disaster. The oysters did not open as we thought they would. We finally concluded that further input or lessons on grilling oysters might be desirable.
Sunday after a drive into San Blas for www access we returned via El Portal, a little village off the highway that we were curious about. The main village was about a mile off the highway from San Blas to Puerto Vallarta but as Ken is prone to do, we drove on to the end of the paved road and another village. Our visit prompted another discussion about the lifestyle, which I find depressing and for which I lack a good empathy. Ken on the other hand feels that the people have never known anything else, have nothing on which to base a malcontent attitude and his attitude is one of acceptance. I don’t argue with that but I cannot help but be somewhat disappointed in what to me seems a surprising lack of motivation to improve their living standards but perhaps, I do not understand poverty Mexican style?
Back at the “ranch”, we did the sunset, and persecuted Bill and Diane with a dvd showing of PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN (not a great movie).
Monday - February 27 – our last day at Playa Amor was spent with housekeeping chores in preparation for an early getaway Tuesday. A final dinner and sunset at Casa Mana heralded our last night of a wonderful three weeks of fun, adventure and exploration with Bill and Diane, who have been wonderful tour guides and travel partners. Back to Mazatlan tomorrow, February 28.
Our “renegade” caravan joined us from their Puerto Vallarta outing. Kay had a reaction to camerones (shrimp) as well as a severe infection and required hospitalization while in Puerto Vallarta. We were glad to see that she was much improved after her four day stay in the hospital and it was good to see everyone. Kay expressed grateful appreciation for the care she received both from the hospital staff and the doctors in Puerto Vallarta. She reported that the hospital was modern, exceptionally clean and expressed an opinion that the hospitals in Canada could benefit from their example. The group all seemed impressed with the care and quality of the hospital which, for those who are traveling in Mexico, is reassuring.
Wednesday, we did a day trip to Puerto Vallarta with “look see” stops in the villages of Ixtapan and Zacualpan. We drove through the little beach community of Penita de Jaltemba and stopped in Rincon for a short visit with friends of Diane and Bill. Rincon appeared to be an ideal resort, within walking distance to the village, a modern club house, pool and a lovely sandy beach that seemed to stretch for miles. However, it lacked the roar of the crushing waves and the privacy of Playa Amor that we have enjoyed.
After our Rincon stop, we proceeded further south and stopped in to look at Sayulita (a lovely spot where Len and Agnes stayed a few years back). According to Bill and Diane, who are old “salts” to Mexico, the place is really growing and the number of “winter displaced” Canadians alone must contribute a goodly sum to the Mexican economy. (Bill says the difference between a Canadian and a canoe is that a canoe tips. – don’t think I should comment on that one.) We then headed into Puerto Vallarta, stopping at the Nuevo Vallarta marina for Ken to check out the boats. (He had not seen a real yacht for 10 days, so he was feeling “deprived”). We had lunch at a little restaurant on the dock and then drove into old town Puerto Vallarta.
My first impressions of the city were mixed. It is a large city, more Americanized (or should I say Canadaized?) than most of the that we have visited in Mexico and bustles with commerce and activity cities (with the exception of Lake Chapala near Guadalajara which is a “bloody colony” of Americans and Canadians). Three cruise ships were in and the beach was adorned with bikini clad sun lovers of all sizes, shapes and colors.
We concentrated on our third try decided on a hotel on the beach where the action was. The sound of waves crashing and the blaring music from the nearby establishments reminded us that these were the vibrant sounds of nature and people enjoying their holiday. Although on a five star scale, the hotel might reasonably be rated as a fading star it provided us with yet another experience in humility and appreciation for the comfort and security that we take for granted in our travel by RV. It is nice to carry your own bed, pillow, food and comfortable air conditioning or heat as the need requires.
With our base established, we had refreshments at the open bar/restaurant, took pictures, walked down the beach and enjoyed the view from the shore. We introduced ourselves to fellow patrons, Roy and Lee, from Kelowna, B. C. Canada an area familiar to Bill and Diane. (We keep wondering if anyone is still in Canada there are so many in Mexico). At Roy’s suggestion we walked the 2 ½ blocks to a Brazilian restaurant where we enjoyed the different experience of a simulated Brazilian churcheria (sp?). The adventure of the experience was fun but Ken in what I considered a “snobby” attitude, compared it to our prior experiences with the churcheria restaurants both in Brazil and in California and pronounced it lacking. I don’t know who died and left him in charge of Brazilian cuisine. I thought it was good and when in Mexico, do as the Mexicans do, right? We capped off our day with a walk over the bridge, on the boardwalk and along the beach and enjoyed the beautiful starlight night and the lights of the city.
After a quick breakfast Thursday morning we checked out of the hotel and did a drive through Gringo Gulch. Miraculously (according to Ken, horse shoe? luck according to Bill) we found the houses to which Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor escaped for their romantic liaisons during their courtship. It is easily identified by the bridge across the street from Elizabeth’s house to Richards (or vice versa). The houses, each built like a fortress, sit on a hill overlooking the bay and city. The view is breathtaking but the homes in the area are all side by side against each other with no visible yard which seems reflective of the predominant city architecture of Mexico. Perhaps there is a courtyard inside the homes, but otherwise, all of the homes seem to be abodes with little attention to yards, space or outside. Tours are supposedly available, but we did not take the time to explore that possibility. Our sightseeing concluded, we stopped for a few things at the grocery, visited the second major marina located in the city, had lunch and returned to Playa Amor where we reunited with our travel partners.
On Monday, Bill, Di, Ken and I drove into San Blas and enjoyed the jungle trip up the river, a pleasant and enjoyable boat ride. We saw several crocodiles, blue and gray herons, turtles, finches etc., but the achinga seemed to be the “resident bird” that perched on every tree. After our jungle outing, we drove into San Blas and enjoyed a delightful gourmet lunch at the Hotel Garza, a first rate restaurant that we recommend as a “must” for anyone visiting San Blas.
Tuesday we were up early to see our “renegades” off at 8 AM for their return to Mazatlan for further tests for Kaye and to enjoy the festivities of “carnaval” with Len and Agnes. We decided to forego “carnaval” in order to enjoy another week at Playa Amor. Bon voyages exchanged and feeling abandoned, we decided to explore. Diane wanted to explore a mountain road that their group traveled down on a previous voyage. She was curious to see if it was as bad as she remembered as well as she had read about some falls that were off the beaten track up that way that we might try to find. The road was not particularly “coach friendly” but maneuverable. Mid way up the hill we asked for directions to the “cascades” and they pointed “thata way”. We were off through avocado groves, bannana fields and coffee plantations, over hills and around curves, meeting an occasional pickup truck with a farmer who waved as we passed. We drove approximately 10 miles through the countryside before coming to a small village where the paved road turned into a dirt road. Uncertain, we stopped at a market where several young senioritas stood on the steps of the local “mini super” and in response to our inquiry regarding the cascades, one of the young ladies drew Bill a map. We thanked the girls, who appeared to range in ages of 15-20 all very pretty, slim and friendly. They laughed and waved back at us as we roared off down the dirt road. (Four aging teenagers, we were). After a mile or so, we met a farmer leading a horse not to water but carrying a load of bamboo) and confirmed that we were still “on course”. He verified the route and cheerfully posed for a picture “for the loco gringos”.
We turned at the road designated on the map and there just off the road sat two taxis with drivers who assured us that we could safely maneuver the road to the falls in our jeep. We drove another 1 ½ miles to the end of the road where a “viewing” site had been constructed of bamboo and looked down at the cascading falls below where people were swimming and with squeals of delight diving from the rocks. We assumed that these were the passengers from the waiting taxis and after snapping pictures from our bamboo perch, Bill, Di and I descended the rocky path to return to the jeep. Ken, presumably in search of better pictures, chose the path to another “viewing” site. The next thing we knew he was out of sight. I suspected that he had decided to explore the path to the falls which is not unusual for his “adventurous nature” but I was surprised that he would do so with others along. Bill climbed up to the viewing site to see if he could see him but nothing. After an hour, we were all growing pretty impatient and our mood (mine especially) was rapidly deteriorating.
I blew the horn on the jeep several times to no avail and if I had been in possession of the keys to the jeep, I would have seriously considered leaving him there. Finally, after approximately 1 and ½ hour he returned, excited to tell us about his adventure and not one of us cared to hear anything that he had to say. The warm climate outside did not help the frosty climate inside the car. Later, back at the coach, we all listened with a half tuned ear as he told us that the people at the falls were vacationers to Puerto Vallarta from Colorado, Oklahoma and Glendale, approximately three streets over from us. It is a small world.
Wednesday - Bill and Diane came by and we pondered what to do with our day. Bill suggested that we could drive to Puerto Vallarta to return a brake drum that he had bought for his VW and Ken had a pair of shorts that could be returned, so why not? We closed up the rigs, piled in the jeep and we were off to Puerto Vallarta. Our first stop was at the Pelican (Mexico’s super market version of Walmart) to exchange Ken’s shorts and then on to lunch at the marina which turned out to be worth the trip in itself. We did a quick survey of the restaurants at the marina and found one that was really “jiving” and decided to try it in spite of Bill’s reluctance to “do fish”. It turned out to be a wonderful lunch. Bill and Diane shared a fish taco lunch, Ken and I shared a fish sampler and all of us had more than we could eat. Two shrimps accompanied our beers and our lunch included a cup of soup and concluded with fried plantains and a toddy made with kuhula. Beyond a doubt, it was one of the best and most reasonable meals of our trip and we have had very few bad ones.
After our more than ample lunch, we stopped at Walmart for a few items, returned the break drum and during a stop for pictures at a view overlooking the valley, saw whales cavorting in the water below. All of that in one day and still, we were home before dark.
On Friday, we were up early for our excursion to Mexicalitain, another interesting and fascinating adventure. We traveled from San Blas up Highway 15 to Vila Hildalgo, where we turned left to Santiago and over a bridge that took us into an expansive and prosperous appearing farming delta. We did a brief stop in Santiago to walk through a market of sorts (more like a swap meet). As we carefully wound our way down the narrow cobblestone streets, we became curious about the activity at the town square. People were gathered, bands were in full dress and of course, the proverbial speakers were performing. Curious, we stopped, did a walk about and enjoyed the “confusion”. Ken surmised that a High School band contest was just concluding and that we had missed the “main event”. We, nevertheless, felt like we had at least experienced the fringe of local excitement and that delighted our cultural senses.
We were surprised to find that Highway 78 leading to the island of Mexicalitain was a good paved road much better than the heavily traveled Highway 15 down the coast from Mazatlan into Tepic. At the end of the road, we parked and boarded “small boats” for the 10 minute trip to one of the oldest communities in Mexico, a village that dates back to the mid 1500's. According to our tour book, many of the residents have never been off the island. The village has one hotel, two restaurants and small boats provide rapid transit to the villagers. The tour book said that some of the residents have never been off the island and there was no reason for us to doubt that as fact. The nearest town is Santiago, down the delta approximately 10 miles. The only obvious enterprise is fishing but surprisingly, the standard of living in that small village seemed more compatible with my concept of a typical Mexican village than most. It was cleaner, no litter on the streets, no graffitti, workmen were painting and doing building maintenance and there was a “pride” reflected in the overall appearance.
Bill and Di, Ken and I each shared a lunch of camarones at a restaurant where we exchanged greetings with a German tourist on a two month bus trip through Mexico. He was leaving for Mazatlan the next day to attend carnival and then planned to travel back to Mexico City for his return flight home. (Mexico appears to be a favorite “winter” visit for Europeans as well as Canadians. On our bus trip from San Blas to Guadalajara, we traveled with a couple (he was from Budapest and she was from Amsterdam) who were traveling by bus throughout Mexico.) A couple from Colorado came in and kibitzed with us as well. We are always delighted to be able to share a communication with English speaking travelers. After lunch, we walked around the island village, explored several streets, visited the hotel, museum, shopped and took lots of pictures. Soon, it was time to leave so we returned to the landing, boarded our boat back to the delta and returned home via the route from whence we came. It was a memorable highlight and peek into a quaint Mexican lifestyle in a trip with many fascinating adventures and explorations.
On Saturday we decided to try the oysters which are one of the main resources of the area. Bill prepared baked oysters which were tasty and quite good. Ken tried cooking a dozen oysters on the grill but that turned out to be a disaster. The oysters did not open as we thought they would. We finally concluded that further input or lessons on grilling oysters might be desirable.
Sunday after a drive into San Blas for www access we returned via El Portal, a little village off the highway that we were curious about. The main village was about a mile off the highway from San Blas to Puerto Vallarta but as Ken is prone to do, we drove on to the end of the paved road and another village. Our visit prompted another discussion about the lifestyle, which I find depressing and for which I lack a good empathy. Ken on the other hand feels that the people have never known anything else, have nothing on which to base a malcontent attitude and his attitude is one of acceptance. I don’t argue with that but I cannot help but be somewhat disappointed in what to me seems a surprising lack of motivation to improve their living standards but perhaps, I do not understand poverty Mexican style?
Back at the “ranch”, we did the sunset, and persecuted Bill and Diane with a dvd showing of PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN (not a great movie).
Monday - February 27 – our last day at Playa Amor was spent with housekeeping chores in preparation for an early getaway Tuesday. A final dinner and sunset at Casa Mana heralded our last night of a wonderful three weeks of fun, adventure and exploration with Bill and Diane, who have been wonderful tour guides and travel partners. Back to Mazatlan tomorrow, February 28.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
MAZATLAN AND SOUTH
Monday, January 30, Our week started with an evening cocktail buffet that featured tequila laced marguerites and mariachi entertainment courtesy of a local full ownership condo resort. The buffet was marginal but the marguerites seemed to satisfy even the most selective of tastes and if one has enough marguerites, entertainment is secondary. We concluded the evening with hamburgers at our place. Tuesday evening, our group of eight (Len and Agnes, the other Ken and Georgina, Bill and Diane, Ken and I) enjoyed the sunset from the terrace at Playa Mazatlan and capped the evening off with a superb dinner. This was our second dining adventure at the Playa Mazatlan and both times the food was outstanding, the service good and the location and view super.
Bill, Diane, Ken and I departed La Posta Wednesday and made our way down the libra (public road as opposed to a toll road) South to Playa Amor, approximately 30 minutes South of San Blas. Several years ago, sailing friends visited this area and shared stores of their San Blas adventures that I wish I had reread before we left home. Igt sounds like an area of interest and history.
Playa Amor is a small well maintained RV resort with grassy sites that over look the ocean. Bill and Diane relinquished a choice available spot overlooking the beach to us for which we were deeply appreciative. We parked on the waters edge and listened as huge rollers serenade us and kiss the sea wall below. We are captivated by a view that melds the magic of the sea with the serenity of the distant horizon. It is an enchanting location, in spite of the bugs that appear nightly at the cocktail hour and for one hour it is they, who “have the last bite”.
On Thursday we enjoyed breakfast at Miramar, a combination Hotel/RV resort less than a mile from Playa Amor and explored San Blas, a quaint fishing village, made famous by Longfellow in his poem “The Bells of San Blas”. After checking on the bus schedule to Guadalajara, we visited the town proper (if in fact there is anything proper in these little Mexican villages) and climbed the hill to the Counting House where sea captains of yore stopped to pay their fare for sailing the coast of Mexico. From atop the hill, the view of the surrounding area and what was the old city is phenomenal and, seemingly, forever. After our walk through the counting house, we ventured on to the old church that still stands though in disrepair. A lady there, who appeared to be a local and perhaps part of a maintenance staff, explained to Ken and Diane some of the history of the Church and shared stories of its past.
Friday we were up at five and away by six AM to catch our bus in San Blas for Guadalajara. We booked our third class fare all the way through to Guadalajara and delighted in the experience of a first hand look at the culture and people watching. We were generally greeted with shy smiles and Buenos Diaz or “ola” with our attempts to communicate in rudimentary Spanish accepted with good cheer. The bus stopped in Tepic and additional passengers came aboard. A Mexican lady, Marguerite, a native of Mexico now living in Long Beach, California, boarded the bus and introduced herself to us. She struck up a conversation with us and during the ride from Tepic to her destination in Magdalena, she pointed out places of interest and chatted with us. She had returned to Mexico to bury her 93 year old father and was en route home. We appreciated her commentary and bi lingual skills.
Just inside the city limits of Guadalajara our bus driver was pulled over by a policeman. We were pleased to note that he did not get a ticket and we had seen no obvious infractions.
The bus depot at Guadalajara is enormous and we jokingly referred to it as the “airport”. From the bus depot, we caught a cab to the Fenix Hotel in downtown Guadalajara, checked in and freshened up before a quick excursion of the downtown sights before dinner. We toured the city by horse and carriage and viewed the major sights with only limited audio from our Spanish speaking non bilingual driver. Ken swears the horse was bilingual. He claims that he asked the horse if it would like to give us a ride and it shook its head sidewise to indicate no. After our scenic view of the downtown metropolis and related cathedrals etc we returned to the hotel for a dinner and entertainment of live music in the bar.
Saturday, February 11 – Up at 7, down for breakfast at 8 and out to play at 9. Our tour guide, Able, a guide and friend of Bill and Diane, picked us up at 9 for our departure to Lake Chapala, approximately 50 miles out of Guadalajara. Large populations of American and Canadian retirees’ live in this area with the Americanized/Canadian lifestyle reflected in the large homes and villas in the area. Able drove us to a village plaza maintained by a local Women’s society for the English speaking colony for a walk about and look around. Able said that the resale value of the area will not support the prices of the homes because the homes are too expensive for the Mexican residents and the deterioration of the Lake has made the area less desirable as a retirement community. I had exhausted my supply of reading material so my major purchase was from the English speaking library where I was able to purchase three paperback books for seven pesos each We then drove through old town Lake Chapala and down to the lake, walked out onto the pier and sauntered through the stalls of arts and crafts on display there. Lake Chapala is 53 miles long and 18 miles wide, according to the Mexican tour book published by the Auto Club and, “it is the largest natural lake in Mexico, surrounded by lushly forested mountains (I’ll have to take their word for that inasmuch as we didn’t go to the mountain – nor did the mountain come to us). The weather is spring like all year a bit cooler in the summer and warmer in winter than Guadalajara. The lake is the chief source of water for the city and because of tremendous population growth in the surrounding area it has dropped by half since the turn of the 20th century. Cutting down trees has caused millions of cubic feet of mud to seep into the lake over the years and the stench of pollution is strongly evident in some areas.”
It was depressing to see the lily pods (Bill referred to them as milfoil) that are infringing the lake both near the shore and further out. As I stood surveying the beautiful landscape from the pier area, I overhead a gentleman tell his companion that the last time he visited the Lake, children were swimming and playing in the water now overcome with lily pods. Small boats navigate a path through the lily pods to pick up customers for a boat ride on the lake. Able explained that the Mexican government cannot agree on the proper resolution to the deterioration of the lake. I further concluded that Able felt President Fox had not practiced good stewardship of Lake Chapala when he approved building a dam that now deprives the Lake of its water supply from rivers upstream. Otherwise, Able seemed to support and believe that President Fox has been good for Mexico, generally.
After our visit to the lake we boarded our “taxi” and drove to Tlaquepaque, a beautiful village shopping area restored to reflect the charm and culture of old Mexico. After a brief stop for refreshments and a final walk about we headed off to the La Faena for dinner and show.
We arrived La Faena, at 4PM and were shown to our “ringside” table and immediately, drinks were served and the food began. We started with cucumbers and orange slices, followed by tasty tahquitos, a shrimp soup preceded an array of pork hocks, carne asada, refried beans and tortillas. The food was outstanding, the drinks potent and the service outstanding. The first show started at 530P with a mariachi band performing flawlessly and a series of singers, six in all, rendered songs of romance and adventure to a more than appreciative audience. Of course, we didn’t understand a word of the songs but the tone and beat sounded good. One of the entertainers stuck the mike in front of Ken who obliged with a sound that simulated a grunt! After the show, the entertainers offered CD’s for sale and personally autographed them at the table. A fellow Californian from the Fresno area who comes to Guadalajara at least three months out of every year, came by our table and visited as well as translated our delight and enjoyment of the performances to the entertainers. We would recommend Able as a first rate guide to anyone visiting Guadalajara for the first time. He speaks fluent English, he loves his country, its culture and its history and not only is he a first rate guide, he is a jewel of knowledge.
We said our goodbyes to a staff who had made us feel like VIPs, boarded a waiting cab and, at the hotel, were surprised to learn that the Club had paid our cab fare and not even a tip was accepted. Our experience left us with a warm and fuzzy feeling of Guadalajara and those whose path we had crossed during our brief stay there. We recommend both our guide and La Faena as a “must” to a wonderful Guadalajara experience.
On Sunday, we departed Guadalajara at 10A on the Elite Bus (first class) to Tepic and enjoyed a lovely comfortable trip back on the toll road. The drive provided a fabulous view of the beautiful fields and landscape of that vibrant farming area. Mile upon mile of tequila plants compete with sugar cane for preferred crop status and tequila appears to be the winner, by far. We arrived back at Playa Amor with great memories of a wonderful weekend that we will recall and enjoy in our “old age”.
After our ambitious weekend trip, we enjoyed a day of relaxed laziness. A drive into an adjacent village and a visit to a panateria (bakery) was the highlight of our day. Bill and Diane had visited the bakery but finding it was not easy. There is no sign or indication whatsoever that a business hides in the non descript dwellings along a street of dirt. Finally, we located the gully that flows through the town and the tiny “bull ring” which sits across the street. Entrance to the bakery was by a wooden plank across the swift flowing gully leading into a building that appeared to be little more than a shanty by American terms. As we walked through the front part of the operation, bags of flour and other ingredients stood stacked on the dirt floor. The impact of what I was seeing still had not registered until we stepped into the next room where several bakers worked at tables manipulating the masses of dough that formed the rolls and bakery goods produced there.
We were greeted with smiles and a welcome to come in and look around. Broken English was spoken and as we communicated with cameras, smiles and gestures, they responded with pleasant and tolerant encouragement. Trays of freshly formed rolls awaited the ovens, while the crew worked to create more.
From the baker’s room, we entered a third room where a mammoth wood fueled brick oven was located. There we watched as a man quickly placed the trays of bread into the oven, moved the trays already in the oven to different locations to adjust the cooking process and removed aromatic rolls browned to perfection. There in that ram shackled building with its dirt floors and dubious sanitation that would undoubtedly fail muster on any number of health codes in the States, was what appeared to be a thriving family run Mexican enterprise. It was a sight to be seen and one that took us back to what must have been a similar experience for our great grandparents. We enjoyed a sampling of the delicious and warm rolls “straight from the oven”. The belagios that Bill sought would not be ready for another hour. After our repast of hot buns, we took pictures of the outside and watched as a pretty red hen took possession of our jeep while others scurried about the grounds.
We relaxed and waited in the town square until time to return for our order of beautiful hot rolls. Diane and I waited outside and watched with nervous concern as two little girls (we judged their age as 1 and 3) played unsupervised outside the building and around the flowing water. Finally, a young lady came up the street and ushered them into an adjacent dwelling. As we returned to our coaches we marveled at the disparity of life and what makes the world go round. Travel in a third world country definitely requires flexibility of mind set, tolerance, patience and a sense of adventure. I later confessed to Ken that after my visit to the bakery, my enthusiasm for the hot rolls had diminished. He assured me that the ovens were hot enough to commit any impurities to “death by fire”. I gleefully buttered another roll.
Monday, January 30, Our week started with an evening cocktail buffet that featured tequila laced marguerites and mariachi entertainment courtesy of a local full ownership condo resort. The buffet was marginal but the marguerites seemed to satisfy even the most selective of tastes and if one has enough marguerites, entertainment is secondary. We concluded the evening with hamburgers at our place. Tuesday evening, our group of eight (Len and Agnes, the other Ken and Georgina, Bill and Diane, Ken and I) enjoyed the sunset from the terrace at Playa Mazatlan and capped the evening off with a superb dinner. This was our second dining adventure at the Playa Mazatlan and both times the food was outstanding, the service good and the location and view super.
Bill, Diane, Ken and I departed La Posta Wednesday and made our way down the libra (public road as opposed to a toll road) South to Playa Amor, approximately 30 minutes South of San Blas. Several years ago, sailing friends visited this area and shared stores of their San Blas adventures that I wish I had reread before we left home. Igt sounds like an area of interest and history.
Playa Amor is a small well maintained RV resort with grassy sites that over look the ocean. Bill and Diane relinquished a choice available spot overlooking the beach to us for which we were deeply appreciative. We parked on the waters edge and listened as huge rollers serenade us and kiss the sea wall below. We are captivated by a view that melds the magic of the sea with the serenity of the distant horizon. It is an enchanting location, in spite of the bugs that appear nightly at the cocktail hour and for one hour it is they, who “have the last bite”.
On Thursday we enjoyed breakfast at Miramar, a combination Hotel/RV resort less than a mile from Playa Amor and explored San Blas, a quaint fishing village, made famous by Longfellow in his poem “The Bells of San Blas”. After checking on the bus schedule to Guadalajara, we visited the town proper (if in fact there is anything proper in these little Mexican villages) and climbed the hill to the Counting House where sea captains of yore stopped to pay their fare for sailing the coast of Mexico. From atop the hill, the view of the surrounding area and what was the old city is phenomenal and, seemingly, forever. After our walk through the counting house, we ventured on to the old church that still stands though in disrepair. A lady there, who appeared to be a local and perhaps part of a maintenance staff, explained to Ken and Diane some of the history of the Church and shared stories of its past.
Friday we were up at five and away by six AM to catch our bus in San Blas for Guadalajara. We booked our third class fare all the way through to Guadalajara and delighted in the experience of a first hand look at the culture and people watching. We were generally greeted with shy smiles and Buenos Diaz or “ola” with our attempts to communicate in rudimentary Spanish accepted with good cheer. The bus stopped in Tepic and additional passengers came aboard. A Mexican lady, Marguerite, a native of Mexico now living in Long Beach, California, boarded the bus and introduced herself to us. She struck up a conversation with us and during the ride from Tepic to her destination in Magdalena, she pointed out places of interest and chatted with us. She had returned to Mexico to bury her 93 year old father and was en route home. We appreciated her commentary and bi lingual skills.
Just inside the city limits of Guadalajara our bus driver was pulled over by a policeman. We were pleased to note that he did not get a ticket and we had seen no obvious infractions.
The bus depot at Guadalajara is enormous and we jokingly referred to it as the “airport”. From the bus depot, we caught a cab to the Fenix Hotel in downtown Guadalajara, checked in and freshened up before a quick excursion of the downtown sights before dinner. We toured the city by horse and carriage and viewed the major sights with only limited audio from our Spanish speaking non bilingual driver. Ken swears the horse was bilingual. He claims that he asked the horse if it would like to give us a ride and it shook its head sidewise to indicate no. After our scenic view of the downtown metropolis and related cathedrals etc we returned to the hotel for a dinner and entertainment of live music in the bar.
Saturday, February 11 – Up at 7, down for breakfast at 8 and out to play at 9. Our tour guide, Able, a guide and friend of Bill and Diane, picked us up at 9 for our departure to Lake Chapala, approximately 50 miles out of Guadalajara. Large populations of American and Canadian retirees’ live in this area with the Americanized/Canadian lifestyle reflected in the large homes and villas in the area. Able drove us to a village plaza maintained by a local Women’s society for the English speaking colony for a walk about and look around. Able said that the resale value of the area will not support the prices of the homes because the homes are too expensive for the Mexican residents and the deterioration of the Lake has made the area less desirable as a retirement community. I had exhausted my supply of reading material so my major purchase was from the English speaking library where I was able to purchase three paperback books for seven pesos each We then drove through old town Lake Chapala and down to the lake, walked out onto the pier and sauntered through the stalls of arts and crafts on display there. Lake Chapala is 53 miles long and 18 miles wide, according to the Mexican tour book published by the Auto Club and, “it is the largest natural lake in Mexico, surrounded by lushly forested mountains (I’ll have to take their word for that inasmuch as we didn’t go to the mountain – nor did the mountain come to us). The weather is spring like all year a bit cooler in the summer and warmer in winter than Guadalajara. The lake is the chief source of water for the city and because of tremendous population growth in the surrounding area it has dropped by half since the turn of the 20th century. Cutting down trees has caused millions of cubic feet of mud to seep into the lake over the years and the stench of pollution is strongly evident in some areas.”
It was depressing to see the lily pods (Bill referred to them as milfoil) that are infringing the lake both near the shore and further out. As I stood surveying the beautiful landscape from the pier area, I overhead a gentleman tell his companion that the last time he visited the Lake, children were swimming and playing in the water now overcome with lily pods. Small boats navigate a path through the lily pods to pick up customers for a boat ride on the lake. Able explained that the Mexican government cannot agree on the proper resolution to the deterioration of the lake. I further concluded that Able felt President Fox had not practiced good stewardship of Lake Chapala when he approved building a dam that now deprives the Lake of its water supply from rivers upstream. Otherwise, Able seemed to support and believe that President Fox has been good for Mexico, generally.
After our visit to the lake we boarded our “taxi” and drove to Tlaquepaque, a beautiful village shopping area restored to reflect the charm and culture of old Mexico. After a brief stop for refreshments and a final walk about we headed off to the La Faena for dinner and show.
We arrived La Faena, at 4PM and were shown to our “ringside” table and immediately, drinks were served and the food began. We started with cucumbers and orange slices, followed by tasty tahquitos, a shrimp soup preceded an array of pork hocks, carne asada, refried beans and tortillas. The food was outstanding, the drinks potent and the service outstanding. The first show started at 530P with a mariachi band performing flawlessly and a series of singers, six in all, rendered songs of romance and adventure to a more than appreciative audience. Of course, we didn’t understand a word of the songs but the tone and beat sounded good. One of the entertainers stuck the mike in front of Ken who obliged with a sound that simulated a grunt! After the show, the entertainers offered CD’s for sale and personally autographed them at the table. A fellow Californian from the Fresno area who comes to Guadalajara at least three months out of every year, came by our table and visited as well as translated our delight and enjoyment of the performances to the entertainers. We would recommend Able as a first rate guide to anyone visiting Guadalajara for the first time. He speaks fluent English, he loves his country, its culture and its history and not only is he a first rate guide, he is a jewel of knowledge.
We said our goodbyes to a staff who had made us feel like VIPs, boarded a waiting cab and, at the hotel, were surprised to learn that the Club had paid our cab fare and not even a tip was accepted. Our experience left us with a warm and fuzzy feeling of Guadalajara and those whose path we had crossed during our brief stay there. We recommend both our guide and La Faena as a “must” to a wonderful Guadalajara experience.
On Sunday, we departed Guadalajara at 10A on the Elite Bus (first class) to Tepic and enjoyed a lovely comfortable trip back on the toll road. The drive provided a fabulous view of the beautiful fields and landscape of that vibrant farming area. Mile upon mile of tequila plants compete with sugar cane for preferred crop status and tequila appears to be the winner, by far. We arrived back at Playa Amor with great memories of a wonderful weekend that we will recall and enjoy in our “old age”.
After our ambitious weekend trip, we enjoyed a day of relaxed laziness. A drive into an adjacent village and a visit to a panateria (bakery) was the highlight of our day. Bill and Diane had visited the bakery but finding it was not easy. There is no sign or indication whatsoever that a business hides in the non descript dwellings along a street of dirt. Finally, we located the gully that flows through the town and the tiny “bull ring” which sits across the street. Entrance to the bakery was by a wooden plank across the swift flowing gully leading into a building that appeared to be little more than a shanty by American terms. As we walked through the front part of the operation, bags of flour and other ingredients stood stacked on the dirt floor. The impact of what I was seeing still had not registered until we stepped into the next room where several bakers worked at tables manipulating the masses of dough that formed the rolls and bakery goods produced there.
We were greeted with smiles and a welcome to come in and look around. Broken English was spoken and as we communicated with cameras, smiles and gestures, they responded with pleasant and tolerant encouragement. Trays of freshly formed rolls awaited the ovens, while the crew worked to create more.
From the baker’s room, we entered a third room where a mammoth wood fueled brick oven was located. There we watched as a man quickly placed the trays of bread into the oven, moved the trays already in the oven to different locations to adjust the cooking process and removed aromatic rolls browned to perfection. There in that ram shackled building with its dirt floors and dubious sanitation that would undoubtedly fail muster on any number of health codes in the States, was what appeared to be a thriving family run Mexican enterprise. It was a sight to be seen and one that took us back to what must have been a similar experience for our great grandparents. We enjoyed a sampling of the delicious and warm rolls “straight from the oven”. The belagios that Bill sought would not be ready for another hour. After our repast of hot buns, we took pictures of the outside and watched as a pretty red hen took possession of our jeep while others scurried about the grounds.
We relaxed and waited in the town square until time to return for our order of beautiful hot rolls. Diane and I waited outside and watched with nervous concern as two little girls (we judged their age as 1 and 3) played unsupervised outside the building and around the flowing water. Finally, a young lady came up the street and ushered them into an adjacent dwelling. As we returned to our coaches we marveled at the disparity of life and what makes the world go round. Travel in a third world country definitely requires flexibility of mind set, tolerance, patience and a sense of adventure. I later confessed to Ken that after my visit to the bakery, my enthusiasm for the hot rolls had diminished. He assured me that the ovens were hot enough to commit any impurities to “death by fire”. I gleefully buttered another roll.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
MORE SOUTH OF THE BORDER – DOWN MEXICO WAY
Monday saw Diane and Bill still fighting their respective colds. We realized that we should cancel a planned Wednesday trip by car to Guadalajara and Taxco. We decided to fete our group with a pot roast from our freezer and I had already thawed it before I realized Bill and Diane were not well enough to partake of our fare. We went on without them and everyone was most gracious in expressing appreciation for our “culinary” attempt though it lacked perfection. We were sorry that Bill and Diane missed our gastronomical offerings and we missed their company.
A group of children from a local orphanage entertained the park residents with some regional dance presentations and provided a charming diversion to our day. The nearby Los Arcos restaurant served hordorves and marguerities gratis of the park and Los Arcos.
Our days are filled with activities of laid back relaxation. The men occupy themselves with the “search of the day”, “must have of the week” or the “chore of the month” while wives see to such household chores as cleaning, laundry (not an easy chore in the park Laundromat) and even ironing. I read two books. I am getting into “relaxation”.
On Wednesday, Betty woke up with a cold that she believes she caught as a result of over exposure to the night air during a Sunday park visit that extended into the cool cool of the evening. Thus, she joined Bill and Diane in their battle against the common cold.
Dan, a fellow park resident, invited Ernie to go fishing with him at a lake some 40 miles in the hills on Thursday. Ernie wrangled an okay to include Ken and Len who had been on the “failed” fishing adventure of the previous week and of course, both were anxious to try their hand and skill once again. I had a premature desire for fish and chips so Ken and I went to The Shrimp Bucket downtown which was a tourist rip off that was highly disappointing. The shrimp was tasty but the service and the proportions were marginal for the price which I felt was excessive. Perhaps it was just my day to be “el cheapo”.
Thursday morning Ken was up at 3AM and they were off by 4 for the approximately one and one-half hour trip to the lake where Dan met them. They had a great day fishing that gave them much pleasure. Ken was particularly obvious in his delight in his skill with a deep sea rod and reel that he used for fresh water fishing. We all enjoyed the “fruits of their mischief” with a fish fry and accruements dutifully prepared by the ladies. Bill, Diane and Betty all felt well enough to join the party and a good time was had by all.
Friday, the group along with another couple from the park, Ken and Georgina, boarded a bus for old town and the central market area for a day “out and about” as a group.
We visited the market, shopped and at the conclusion of our “walk through the market”, Bill and Ken (of Ken and Georgina) went over to the open air fresh fish market and purchased 11 kilos of shrimp (for 11 people, Georgina is allergic to shell fish) and brought it back to the restaurant who graciously prepared and served the shrimp for us. It was perfecto and mouth watering good.
As we left the restaurant, we stopped to enjoy a parade already in progress featuring the candidates for King and Queen of the carnival to be held later this month. It was an entertaining and fun way to conclude a good day “out and about” on the streets of Mazatlan.
Saturday we ventured out onto the beach to view the sand sculptures, enjoy the music at a local bar and watched as Len and Agnes “tripped the light fantastic”. Ken, Bill, Diane and I stopped for ribs at a nearby restaurant before sharing a nightcap and calling it a day. Sunday we will all join together to watch the super bowl at a local sports bar and share another day in the sun, SOUTH OF THE BORDER, DOWN MEXICO WAY.
Monday saw Diane and Bill still fighting their respective colds. We realized that we should cancel a planned Wednesday trip by car to Guadalajara and Taxco. We decided to fete our group with a pot roast from our freezer and I had already thawed it before I realized Bill and Diane were not well enough to partake of our fare. We went on without them and everyone was most gracious in expressing appreciation for our “culinary” attempt though it lacked perfection. We were sorry that Bill and Diane missed our gastronomical offerings and we missed their company.
A group of children from a local orphanage entertained the park residents with some regional dance presentations and provided a charming diversion to our day. The nearby Los Arcos restaurant served hordorves and marguerities gratis of the park and Los Arcos.
Our days are filled with activities of laid back relaxation. The men occupy themselves with the “search of the day”, “must have of the week” or the “chore of the month” while wives see to such household chores as cleaning, laundry (not an easy chore in the park Laundromat) and even ironing. I read two books. I am getting into “relaxation”.
On Wednesday, Betty woke up with a cold that she believes she caught as a result of over exposure to the night air during a Sunday park visit that extended into the cool cool of the evening. Thus, she joined Bill and Diane in their battle against the common cold.
Dan, a fellow park resident, invited Ernie to go fishing with him at a lake some 40 miles in the hills on Thursday. Ernie wrangled an okay to include Ken and Len who had been on the “failed” fishing adventure of the previous week and of course, both were anxious to try their hand and skill once again. I had a premature desire for fish and chips so Ken and I went to The Shrimp Bucket downtown which was a tourist rip off that was highly disappointing. The shrimp was tasty but the service and the proportions were marginal for the price which I felt was excessive. Perhaps it was just my day to be “el cheapo”.
Thursday morning Ken was up at 3AM and they were off by 4 for the approximately one and one-half hour trip to the lake where Dan met them. They had a great day fishing that gave them much pleasure. Ken was particularly obvious in his delight in his skill with a deep sea rod and reel that he used for fresh water fishing. We all enjoyed the “fruits of their mischief” with a fish fry and accruements dutifully prepared by the ladies. Bill, Diane and Betty all felt well enough to join the party and a good time was had by all.
Friday, the group along with another couple from the park, Ken and Georgina, boarded a bus for old town and the central market area for a day “out and about” as a group.
We visited the market, shopped and at the conclusion of our “walk through the market”, Bill and Ken (of Ken and Georgina) went over to the open air fresh fish market and purchased 11 kilos of shrimp (for 11 people, Georgina is allergic to shell fish) and brought it back to the restaurant who graciously prepared and served the shrimp for us. It was perfecto and mouth watering good.
As we left the restaurant, we stopped to enjoy a parade already in progress featuring the candidates for King and Queen of the carnival to be held later this month. It was an entertaining and fun way to conclude a good day “out and about” on the streets of Mazatlan.
Saturday we ventured out onto the beach to view the sand sculptures, enjoy the music at a local bar and watched as Len and Agnes “tripped the light fantastic”. Ken, Bill, Diane and I stopped for ribs at a nearby restaurant before sharing a nightcap and calling it a day. Sunday we will all join together to watch the super bowl at a local sports bar and share another day in the sun, SOUTH OF THE BORDER, DOWN MEXICO WAY.