January 1, 2009

Jan 1

We said goodbye to 2008 with what was one of the most fun days of the year for me.

Our crew of folks we're hanging out with had swelled for the past day as a group of American girls had rolled into town and we decided that before they take off we were going to go on a 3 hour boat tour, a la Gilligan's Island. They were headed to Puerto Vallerta in the afternoon but couldn't find a hotel room in the whole place, so they ditched and headed to PV early to sort themselves out a place to stay. So Rory and I met up with the core group of people here as they had planned to go on a much more ambitious hitch hiking journey to a waterfall an hour and a half away. Rory and I were skeptical that a group of 7 gringos would be picked up on the side of the road and were happy to find out how wrong we were. 7 different pickup trucks picked us up to take us to the next town or the next intersection where they had to go another way. We never waited longer than 5 minutes before we were picked up. And the few cars that did pass without stopping all made some hand gesture explanation, either that they were just driving around town, were heading the other way or that they regrettably had no room in their truck. One of the trucks on the way there, though, stood out as being the most memorable. We were waiting at a speed bump in the second town we'd made it to and this little red low-riding truck nearly bottomed out as it crawled over the speed bump, coming to a stop. It was not a road worthy truck. Over a blaring Bone Thugs n' Harmony, the driver told us to hop in the back which was already partly occupied by his most recent catch on ice. Riding with the fresh catch, there immediately was a horrible screeching sound coming from underneath us. We were a little more weight than the non-existent suspension could support and the tires were rubbing against the wheel wells creating a painful screeching that sounded like the precursor to a blown tire and a bloody accident with 7 gringos thrown clear. We shifted around the bed with every turn, recalibrating our tenuous situation while I tried to measure tread depth in my head. Huddled together we thought to get the attention of the seemingly deaf driver who didn't seem to mind and we agreed that we would get out at the next town. The next town came and went (“oh it's not that bad, right?”) they reached their destination and we could collectively sigh with relief. I didn't see it, but we also managed to hit a rotweiler while riding in that truck. We weren't going fast and I think we just clipped him but still it added some Mexican authenticity to the experience.

The waterfall itself is incredibly isolated and gorgeous. Up in the mountains where mango and coffee are the main crops it felt like we were a crew headed towards “The Beach” (minus Leonardo DiCaprio). An Australian named Yannick who has been in San Blas for a week had made the arduous trip twice already and he immediately jumped in and climbed up behind the waterfall. I've never been to a place where you could do this but it was amazing. It wasn't easy to fight the pounding water and there was no air to breath as you started the climb, but you could manage to pull yourself up the rock and into a little area where you could sit and hide yourself behind the falls. It was pretty amazing and fun to see someone jump out of the waterfall.

Headed home we continued to be blessed by the hitching gods and that time it only took us 3 rides as the third truck was a couple who live in Denver but were home for the holidays and happy to take us the whole way.

To make the day even better we arrived back to the beach as the sun was setting and a couple of Argentines were grilling (an asado) up a New Years feast that we'd planned a couple of days back. Our American contribution to the evening was beer pong, which everyone enjoyed. Then we braved the explosive laden streets to head to the central plaza where all the young folk had congregated. There was a drum/dance circle in one corner of the plaza and random explosions pretty much everywhere else. One of the most popular fireworks was something like a cherry bomb that gave off a forceful blast that you could actually feel if you were within 20 feet. Those shot some sort of plug, randomly and I got shot in the chest which left a nice little welt. Better than my eye. Also, Rory and I had to duck a bottle rocket that someone shot through the center of the plaza. But we met some great people and made it back to the beach just in time to catch the tail end of a bonfire that someone had left and the first light of 2009.

December 30

It was not a traditional Christmas. In fact it really didn't feel like Christmas at all and that, or maybe the beginning of a little cold, kind of put me off.

But it was a beautiful sunset that descended upon Mazatlan that night and just before dinner Rory and I headed up to the top floor of the Best Western which had an amazing view of the coast and the city behind. Just down the road (and also on the beach) from our hotel was a restaurant that had a band and a gregarious owner happy to wish us a Feliz Navidad. The good music, food, company, and general scene sent my spirits higher and then we got into the spirits—which also helped. After befriending the bar staff at a busy place we stumbled upon, we were given, to our definite detriment, some shots that were on fire and others that could have been. The next day was not fun, but we were in one piece and with Rory handling the motivation we were heading to San Blas.

San Blas is a little fishing/navy/surfing village just west and north of Tepic. The Lonely Planet had highlighted it as a great spot and we've settled into it nicely. Unfortunately we had to go through Tepic, where the people almost unanimously sneered at us, for reasons still unbeknown.

In San Blas we're staying at a place on the beach, a ways out of town called Stoner's Surf Camp. There's a great group of people staying here and it's a quick bike ride to town to stock up on more Cabrito (our favorite tequila).

The first night here we were put into a cabana on the beach. Nothing but sand between us and the ocean, it was a pretty sweet spot. The next day, though, it was booked and we were moved into another cabana which is one of the coolest hotel rooms I've ever stayed in. Sitting above the staff trailer and the kitchen area, our cabana is like a mini a-frame in the sky with a sun room coming off of one side that faces the ocean. A hatch door leads down a ladder 12 or 15 feet to the ground and when you look out from our sun room (that has a mini-couch and lounge chair (where I now find myself) you can see ripening coconuts within reaching distance. At the moment I'm keeping an eye on the sky. The clouds are now a dark purple outlined with hints orange but should brighten as the sun makes its final salute for the day. Rory is out playing in the almost non-existent waves and will be back by the time it's dark. We spent a good part of yesterday on the water and had a ton of fun with some decent surfing success. Tonight we will likely head to what has become our local quesadilla (gringita) and taco stand. For 4 dollars you can eat enough amazing food to almost make you nauseous—as Rory set out to prove last night.

My cold that started in Mazatlan and was supported by our big Christmas night out is almost gone and I think tonight will be prime for getting back on the horse.