On the road to Manzanillo

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The Cool Vallarta night goes quickly and soon I am straining to see myself in the mirror while shaving in dim early morning light. I'm running a little behind so I scramble to get ready quickly. I get to the esquina or corner where the bus departs in plenty of time. There is a little store on the corner that sells fresh fruit coffee to go and other good stuff. I figure out by smell that a pot of fresh tamales is close at hand. I order one stuffed with queso and elote and another de pollo. Add a pan dulce a few bananas and an orange and breakfast and trip snacks are covered.

A pretty senorita with a nice smile sells me a sidewalk ticket for the bus ride south. The very greasy and delicious tamales are consumed in short order on the sidewalk and the bus arrives five minutes early. It’s one of those big fancy ones with AC, televisions and a rest room. The fare to Manzanillo is 180 pesos give or take a few centavos. The bus loads quickly and I get a window seat with a lot of leg room. The bus driver is a medium risk taker keeping up a good pace but not too crazy with no life tittering stunts like passing a tractor trailer going up hill on a blind curve which I have experienced more times than I’d like to admit in this trusting and deeply spiritual culture.

While riding Mexican busses and sharing the celebrations of the tiempo Guadalupana I have come to know full faith and deep affirmation for the Virgin of Guadalupe Mexico’s guiding spirit who will look over you constantly as you travel in this sacred land. Take this seriously and regardless of your formal or informal spiritual beliefs open yourself to the Virgin and you will travel well and in peace and Mexico will reach out and embrace you. Read about this legend here http://www.sancta.org/intro.html

The first hour out of Vallarta is always pretty as you wind south down the coast past legendary Mismaloya beach where Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor filmed Night of The Iguana amidst a steamy Mexico love affair and presto Puerto Vallarta was on the map and it has been so ever since. Soon you pass Boca de Tomatlan where a river cascades down from the coast range into the sea. The next half hour up to El Tuito winds steeply up into the Sierra as trees change from palms to pines. The scenery from here on out is interesting the first time and seems to loose its appeal on subsequent trips. I read my newspaper and learn quite a few new words reading about the social antics of Guadalajara's elite families who all look very white and very wealthy.

Soon the bus lurches to a stop outside of a dusty hardscrabble poblado. However there is a roadside taco stand with a senior and senora working together to bring hungry bus drivers and passengers succulent greasy tacos of mystery meat that may have been beef but could have easily been goat. The good news is there is lots of fat dripping off the meat so you know it will be rich in flavor. There are little bowls of red and green salsa, pinto beans, chopped cilantro and onions and pickled jalapeños and carrots. The bus driver his assistant and a few passengers disembark and chow down with gusto. I go for a banana and a pan dulce opting out of the heart attack specials.

Sated and with no grease spots on his impeccably white shirt the driver gets back on board and we take off. I go back to reading and realize I have to find a rest room quickly. Ah this is a Primera Plus bus it will have a rest room in the rear. It did but the road was one tight curve after another and the operador was pushing it. The ride made a New York City subway ride look like a walk in the park. It was like trying to pee while walking on top of a barrel rolling on the deck of a ship in a storm. I figured it out regardless.

Soon we were pulling into Melaque the only scheduled stop along the way. I stayed on the bus as it was pretty hot and I know Melaque well anyway not much to see out there by the bus station but more busses and people cooking more taco meat. I think I was just tired.

The anticipation began to build as we pulled out of Melaque heading south for Manzanillo. It wasn’t long before we ran into Jalisco’s new endless construction project. A new road is being laid in from Manzanillo up to Tenicatita Bay and later all the way to Vallarta. Some say it will be four lanes, others two. Regardless it will be a good road that will provide better access to this rapidly developing tourist region.

The going was slow as we traversed endless short sections of newly graded dirt road. Then back onto old pavement for a mile or two then back off onto dirt and so it went for probably 20 miles. You get used to this stuff and just roll with it, literally. Bring lot of water on these bus trips and a few snacks too because you never know what will happen and something always does happen in Mexico.

The drive along the long beaches to the north of Manzanillo is uninspiring. There are a few luxury properties like Las Hadas and a lot of budget to moderate hotels lining the bay of Santaigo from one end to the other. In my humble opinion it's a solid two star area. It must have been stunning three hundred years ago.

The bus makes an unexpected sharp left onto a dusty dirt lane. We must be going to the new bus station I reason. The previous bus station was leveled by a severe earthquake. Like a jewel in the desert tucked into a rather uninspiring industrial area amidst scruffy weed lots and distributorships lies the gleaming new architecturally designed white stucco and glass central bus station. This is a first class place and very up to date. The counter people are very helpful and not much English is spoken.

The Virgin is looking over my shoulder. The next Rojo to Armeria leaves in fifteen minutes. Rojos are the red line or the old second class Dina brand busses with a red stripe down the side that make the local runs.

Fifteen minutes what good luck, it’s always like this for me here. There is always a bus just about to leave for wherever I am going. This is truly amazing and this can only be explained by knowing the Virgin of Guadalupe is with you. The bus is almost full as it is a local run in one of those blessed old Dinas with windows that open wide pushing cool breezes past hot faces.

The operador is a repressed Grand Prix champion and he tore that old Dina up the highway at amazing speeds grinding the gears like there was no tomorrow. He had three different likenesses of the Virgin up above the steering wheel protecting him and us as he sailed around long lumbering semis laden with sacks of salt and bananas. Believe me this guy needed three Virgins however five would arguably have been better. We make it to Armeria alive and in record time and the transmission is still operational! I get off having no idea what to do from here.

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