I'm up in the air, looking down on the clouds and reminded of Joanie Mitchel. I've seen the clouds from both sides now on this trip. The sun rarely shone for a full day while I was in Vallarta, but that's fine by me. The temperature was perfect, especially in the mornings and evenings. Now we are flying over fuzzy, dry, brownish green sierras with very serpentine, narrow roads leading to tiny collections of houses and some winding beige rivers that appear to be dry. My mind is turning to thoughts of snow and skiing at Sovereign with Miriam on Thursday.
On the first day of my stay at the Hotel Suites La Siesta I felt as if I was right at home, the same two rooms and view that I had had five years ago. There was no fridge this time, but when I commented on that to the maid she asked a man who works there for help and the two of them brought me a fridge and some plates, a knife and a fork. The guy rolled in the fridge and plunked it down so roughly that I was surprised to find that it worked, which it did as long as you closed the door tightly in the only way possible, by using a latch of the type you usually see on bathroom stall doors in summer camps. I tipped them both, happily unpacked my clothes and the food I had bought at Mega on the way over from Dick and Ellen's and settled in for a quiet night alone.
On the second day as I was preparing to meet Barb at the cathedral, things took a turn for the worse. The man at the front desk practically begged me to change rooms. As his job seemed to be in jeopardy, I finally agreed. The same two friendly staff members helped me move my stuff, including the food and rickety fridge from the fourth floor down to the second. I happily tipped them again, settled in, had a shower and went to meet Barb at the Cathedral, where one wedding was ending and the bride for a second was arriving. We watched the action, commenting on things that struck us as odd or interesting. We left to walk for a while on the Malacon just as the second ceremony was about to begin. We had drinks and dinner on the beach while the sun set and then took a taxi back to the hotel. As soon as we entered the room, we were aware of an oder of toilet, not at all 'eau de toilette.' I put water in the two obvious stench sources I could find in the bathroom, then stuffed them with plastic bags and shut the bathroom door. The smell diminished as the night went on, but the next evening when we returned we were greeted by the same stench. I kept using that word to describe the smell because Barb found it quite amusing. I went through the same procedures and again things improved. This time; however, I went down and complained to the night watchman who of course could do nothing but said he would inform the jefe in the morning. MILAGRO! On my last night at La Siesta there was no stench. The rooms had been thoroughly cleaned, a source I hadn't thought of had been blocked and the air was so redolent of cleaning products no other odour could have penetrated it anyway. Unfortunately for Barb, she was not there to appreciate it. After drinks and dinner with the Baughans and Danbrooks, I walked back to La Siesta and sat alone on the balcony in the fresh air and perfect temperature, looking out over the Bay of Banderas as the pirate ship arrived with a fresh crew of inebriates screaming in response to the commands of their captain. This drunken frenzy precedes the setting off of fireworks every night as the ship approaches the Malecon.
This morning I was disappointed that the new coffee shop near the hotel, right across from the place where the woman sells her tamales wasn't open. This bodes ill for its success since a coffee shop that isn't open by 8:45am will miss quite a few potential clients, at least it would in any place other than Mexico. Barb and I had had a good cup there yesterday before she caught the bus home. Unfortunately, the tamale lady wasn't there that day, so she didn't get to try those and I was never able to enjoy the two together. As it was I bought a super sweet cappuccino from the nearby OXXO and drank it as I ate my tamale again on the Malecon.
And now we're flying over some desperate looking desert in northern Mexico or the southern USA.
A view of Los Arcos from the bottom of the trail in Mismaloya
I saw part of a reception for this artist when I was walking around the city hall in Puerto Vallarta. I wasn't sure who he was but since have discovered that he made the original 'Boy on the Seahorse' sculpture in 1968 when he was 18 years old. He has since worked in many different areas of the arts and was being recognized for his contribution to Puerto Vallarta and art in Mexico in general.
The Boy on the Seahorse
A more recent sculpture by Zamarripa
Another of his more recent sculptures
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