Last week in P.V.

I’m back at the Baughan’s in P.V. sitting at the dining room table looking out over Banderis Bay, enjoying a slow, quiet morning and thinking of friends, especially Mela whose operation is today and Micheline whose birthday it is tomorrow.  As for me, my shoulder is much improved and the poisoning is finally a thing of the past.  Although I did everything wrong in that case. 

I was feeling better and finally even hungry by Monday evening, so I went in to Guayabitos to buy dinner, a ‘boleo’ (Tina’s favorite thing), which would have been fine, but then I got Manchego cheese, a red onion and 2 tomatoes.  I made a grilled cheese and onion bun with tomato, one of Jim and my favorite snacks.  Half way through it my stomach began to churn, but I couldn’t resist taking 2 more bites.  By the time I put the last bit in the basura, it was too late.  I woke on Tuesday with a headache and nauseated feeling. I had been reminded by Barbara of the BRAT diet and remembered on my own that a friend in Cuernavaca had told me 26 years ago that the best cure was to drink chamomile tea and eat nothing but papaya, but ignored both. I walked into town and bought the latter remedies, but as the Baughans arrived for a visit on Wed. at noon, I soon forgot them.  By Thursday at 1:00p.m., I had eaten a wonderful fish filet in butter and cilantro for  dinner on Wed. night and drunk a cup of coffee and a cappuccino on Thursday morning.  I was starting to feel awful as I waited with them for their bus back to P.V.  My period of feeling fine and having fun was over.  Finally, I began the tea and papaya diet and stuck to it for the rest of the day.  I even turned down an invitation to go with Barb and Rod and friends to a beach restaurant for dinner on Thursday evening.  What admirable restraint.  Alone in my solitary hotel room, it turns out that Brisas del Mar had been a meditation centre, I could hear the waves crashing on the shore, something I had not heard before.  I walked down to see that the ocean was wild.  As a person who is tired of Paris is tired of life, so a person who is not moved by the thrill of wild weather is probably not capable of motion.  The waves and the wind were exhilarating, and I thought what a fool I had been not to join the gang, so I ran as fast as I could to what I knew was their meeting spot on the beach and arrived just in time to catch the last couple and drive with them in their truck to the restaurant where I drank a Sprite, ate soda biscuits and enjoyed the company and sound of the sea.  The fishermen nearby pulled all their boats to safe spots high up the beach as we sat eating. I continued the papaya diet, and Barb made us a simple dinner of chicken breast on Friday night.  By Sat. night we both felt fine.  She and Rod and I walked the whole length of Guayabitos beach and enjoyed a very good dinner outside on the sand beside a Mexican pottery fireplace that radiated heat.  The nights have been cool, so it was really glorious.  I thought of my fire friend, Micheline.  A little boy even came by and gave us each a marshmallow, but as we never did get sticks, Rod ate them uncooked for dessert.   I now am fine, but I’ve just been messaging with Barb as I write this, and she’s still got a headache and is going to see a doctor today.  Caroline Baughan is in front of me on the couch feeling punk for the 2^nd day, but we are going to go to the Marina to shop in spite of that.

I’m now in the shopping and last walks around my beloved Vallarta stage of the trip.