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Published: April 23rd 2006
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I started the blog long after leaving Mexico but want to add my memories and pictures from there as well to complete the sabbatical story.
Ahhhh... everyone raved about Sayulita. Well Annie and Bob had loved it. Something drew me there- it seemed the perfect place to start my travels. I wasn't afraid to go alone for one. The friendliness of the place was immediately confirmed- I met a hippy-ish couple during my first meal. Delicious seafood, folks from the Bay Area or Canada were typical new acquaintances.
Since I came to surf, I checked out Patty & Patricio's surf school within the first day or two of my arrival (discovered from other locals only after 2 lessons with Patricio that he was the long-board champion of Mexico!). Most days found me too intimidated by the surfer and surfista hordes coveting the too small, too few waves (although conditions are generally great in Sayulita for beginner surfers, the sea was actually too calm in early November this year, and each day brought more competition).
I tried to run, or at least walk, the length of the beach most evenings, listening to James Blunt on my ipod. I hiked
Day of the Dead
walking through cemetary on way to Playa del Muerte (beach) most mornings in the heavy humidity. Besides the main beach, there were others- the one past the cemetary, and then another, even more remote, further down. Just me and the crabs some days.
There was no ATM yet in town but the Aztec-Mayan themed nightclub was going up along the riverbank and I wondered if the stench from that polluted water way would discourage potential patrons. I met that nightclub developer and his cool wife who ran the book store with the popular Spanish school. It seemed to me there was drug money in that family. Joe-Mike (Jose-Miguel), Ritchie, Allyson, and others were my early pals. Later I met Rosebud and Angelica, and Stefan. Beers in the afternoon on the beach chair in front of Juan-Pablo's, reading first Our Man in Havana, and later devouring Cloud Atlas- my favorite book in ages- became my routine. I'd dine at any one of several international restaurants or just at the wi-fi enabled Sayulita Lounge, with my laptop, served dinner by the Argentinean restaurant next door; sipping fruit infused vodka (strawberries), chatting with anyone sitting near by. Usually, I’d meet a friend, new or already known, and we’d walk together to another
The Baby Who Would Not Come Out
Cute little pregnant Mama I saw on the beach every day with her two little ones...(two besides the one inside her who was long overdue) bar- most likely the Chinese restaurant Red Dragon, for it was most popular, and had a reggae band playing every night. It was not quite high season. The surf was already crowed, but the nightlife was more mellow, just getting started. No ATM though. For cash, you had to bus 30 minutes away to another town.
Memorable day trips- One day I hiked alone to San Francisco. You could see this next town north from the beach, but you couldn’t get all the way there walking on the beach- more than one rocky, jagged cliff obstruction stood in your way. So I had to find the trail through the woods- taking down spider webs and hoping not to encounter their likely large makers along my way. I heard suspicious forest sounds to quicken my step, and not really knowing where I was going heightened my anxiety. But it was this or the crab-crawling cliffs, which were surely more dangerous- from which I could fall and no one would know. So I pressed on and relied on my instinctive navigation skills. Soon, I reached my quiet destination and found refuge in a hammock...
On another day, Ritchie and I
set off to find a beach south of Puerto Vallarta. We had to take the hour-long bus ride to the touristy city. Once there, we walked to the other end of it through the Senior Frogs-type establishments and tourist agency touts trying to stop us to offer their services. The droves of middle America tourists- bachelor and bachelorette parties, overweight couples, and families delighted with Senior Frogs and the cliché stores along the waterfront offended our senses. We felt like Leonard D. in The Beach when he had to leave his paradise on Ko Phi Phi Island to return to Bangkok for supplies. But we made it to the end where we expected to find our water taxi. Not there, we were told to take a bus further up the cliff-hugging road to a small beach. We made it and boarded our boat after beer and a snack. The ride was breath taking and took us past road-inaccessible beaches to the one we sought. It was worth the trip and we delighted in its remoteness. We strolled to the end of the beach, met a nice man and child, and then decided to hike up through the quaint village to one of the waterfalls. Friendly stray dogs followed us. We had to splash through a smelly river to get back to the beach. Then we waited for the water taxi to come back but it never did. Well it did, but early, and we thought it wasn’t ours and continued to sip our margaritas with confidence. We began to fret an hour later watching the setting sun with no sign of any boat. We considered our options- spend $50 to get a room here, knowing we’d already spent $50 for our rooms back in Sayulita, get to know the extremely few inhabitants by a bonfire on the beach and go back in the AM, or pay something close to that to get a private boat to take us back. We were homesick for our Sayulita so we did the latter. Found another city starved youth to split it with us and off we went.
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