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Mexico

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How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, when memory plays an old tune upon the heart

Eliza Cook

Way back in the dim and distant past – in what was virtually a pre-historic era in blog-world-time – The Girl and I took a poor decision; that we would live on different continents for what now feels like an absolute age. In the event we managed about ten months, with her resident here in Victoria and I yet back in the Old Country.

What were we thinking?

Those whose length of service qualifies them as blog-old-timers (yes – there are a few!) will recall that her departure for the West Coast of Canada back in 2012 was indeed the spark from which this online journal took fire. Commenced as a displacement activity as much as anything it rapidly became apparent that these scribblings might be useful as a way of keeping in touch with a small community of those either related to… or long-standing friends of… this slightly odd couple with the questionable decision-making skills.

For what reason…” – I hear you ask, somewhat warily – “is this memory playing an old tune etc, etc – at this particular time?!

Well – I refer you to this post from December 2017 – back in the pre-COVID world. On that occasion The Girl and I both visited Puerto Vallarta together, on what was my first ever trip to Mexico. Her timeshare share (huh!) is still there and still being paid for, so it is entirely proper that she should make use of the facility… the which she is currently doing. The real question is “Why aren’t I there with her?” – looking after her and keeping her safe. The answer is – of course – that I have still the end of term to negotiate, with its concomitant group of students suddenly keener than they have thus far been to get a decent grade at the end of the course.

The Girl and I are thus once again living in different nation states – though only for two weeks this time. Whereas she thoroughly deserves the rest and recuperation after what has been a tough year – I still don’t care for the apart-ness of the whole thing.

Guess I’ll just have to ‘cowboy up‘ and get on with it!

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“Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter? That you have such a February face so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?”

William Shakespeare

Two years back – just before the world went crazy (though of course a very strong case could be made that it had already done so back in 2016) The Girl and I were sorting through our summer clothes and beachware, deciding what to take on our upcoming cheeky winter sojourn to Zihuatanejo in Mexico during the College’s Reading Week.

I mention this because running away to Mexico is a very Canadian thing – an essential mechanism by which they survive the worst of the winter. The Girl had been doing just that for years prior to moving to the UK and indeed owns part of a timeshare in Mexico.

Come the pandemic many Canadians have suddenly been deprived of their essential vitamin D booster. Not all, of course. A good number have resolutely ignored the risks and made the pilgrimage anyway. Us old folk (me, rather than The Girl of course) tend to me somewhat more circumspect and are eschewing the delights of the sunny south in the interests of longer term health.

Unfortunately that means we have to stay home and endure that most tricksy of months – February.

This is the month that offers us Valentine’s day and slowly lengthening evenings, whilst also tempting us with occasional balmy days and hints of spring – only to snatch them away again with renewed wintery blasts.

It helps not at all to have so little to which we can look forward. This year has been even tougher than usual in that The Girl needed to have a tooth pulled (as I write this she has just come out of the dental surgery and I am about to convey her home). Dentists here apparently prescribe a single dose of Atavin for such circumstances (not something I ever encountered in the UK) and the results are… interesting! Anyway – I am sure that gentle readers would join me in wishing The Girl a speedy recovery.

It is thus with considerable pleasure that we anticipate the brief visit to Victoria next week of old friends from the UK. There is something about receiving guests from over the water that is redolent of normality – though of course our interactions will doubtless be executed with full mind to the essential protocols.

Should the gentle reader be ‘tutting’ at this point about the irresponsibility of international tourism in such times, rest assured that the visit is actually for business – specifically that involving an interview for possible employment! That in itself raises the delicious possibility of our circle of friends here in BC being enlarged by acquaintances renewed – which can never be a bad thing.

No matter what transpires it will be good to see them.

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“If you want to test your memory, try to recall what you were worrying about one year ago today.”

E. Joseph Cossman

So very much has happened in the last year; it is difficult sometimes to ‘get one’s head around it’. These photos were taken a year apart! Where would I rather be?…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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The Girl is slowly getting over her sinus infection. I am fighting off a mild attack of the sniffles (no comparison!). Let us cheer ourselves up with a quick miscellany of jolly images of sun-drenched Zihuatanejo (where the maximum temperature varies by less than 5 degrees C – across the whole year!)…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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“ANDY: Think you’ll ever get out of here?

RED: Sure. When I got a long white beard and about three marbles left rolling around upstairs.

ANDY: Tell you where I’d go. Zihuatanejo.

RED: Zihuatanejo?

ANDY: Mexico. Little place right on the Pacific. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? They say it has no memory. That’s where I’d like to finish out my life, Red. A warm place with no memory. Open a little hotel right on the beach. Buy some worthless old boat and fix it up like new. Take my guests out charter fishing.”

The Shawshank Redemption – by Frank Darabont
Based upon the story – ‘Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption’ – by Stephen King

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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“I’m Mexican. I eat salsa with everything.”

Anjelah Johnson

I believe that I have mentioned previously within these musings that The Girl and I were going to take advantage of the College having a ‘reading week’ this February to run away to Mexico for a little R & R – not to mention some much needed sunshine and warmth.

And here we are – in a rather lovely and luxuriously verdant resort near Xtapa – which is itself but a stone’s throw from Zihuatenajo. As ever I cannot travel without taking pictures. Herewith a random introductory selection:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Herewith a final batch of images from our recent sojourn in the sun during the run-up to Christmas.

Puerto Vallarta has a sizable and most attractive marina which includes a basin large enough for the ubiquitous cruise ships to dock:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidOn Thursday evenings the marina plays host to a rather splendid market at which it is possible to purchase the wares of local artists and craftsmen, as well as sampling local foodstuffs and – of course – tequila!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidIn the centre of town there is a lovely church dedicated to ‘Our Lady of Guadalupe’, an image of which also featured in a mural adjacent to our resort in the Hotel Zone.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidI promised a photo of a bus! This was by no means the oldest or the most rickety!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI liked the slogan on the ‘Cashola’ ATM. “Say hello to your money” it says – with the clear subtext “Prepare to say goodbye to it again shortly thereafter!“.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Hmmm!

My humble apologies to those who receive these updates via the email feed… yesterday’s posting was done under the influence of the Boxing Day blur and I sadly omitted various steps from the habitual routine by which means I normally ensure that all of the images render correctly. Should you have suffered the resultant shambles (and can give a rat’s arse either way) please do follow this link to view it all over again.

Puerto Vallarta’s seafront is quite naturally a major attraction. The Malecon is a mile-long esplanade that takes one along the front as far as the bridge over the Rio Cuale. This recently renovated pedestrian promenade features a fascinating display of public statuary:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidCrossing the river (which at this point incorporates the wooded Isla Cuale in an area surrounded by cafes and cramped boutiques offering the outpourings of local artists and craftsmen) one comes again to the Zona Romantica, the which district borders the sea at the charmingly entitled Playa de Los Muertos:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidThe rocks that separate the various beaches are home to a multitude of massively shy crabs that can apparently tell when they are being looked at. If one stands with one’s back to their habitat they all shuffle out – sideways – to sit on the rocks, but should one turn one’s head to look at them they scurry away into the shadows at pace…

…except for this one – which isn’t going anywhere ever again!

This chap is not going to be playing the piano again either…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA pretty awesome place to have a massage:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Our recent trip to Puerto Vallarta – my first visit to Mexico – furnished such a vivid range of impressions that I found it impossible not to be continually firing off shots with whatever photographic device I had to hand. Feeling the urge to share I am going to upload several batches of the resulting images for the gentle reader’s (and viewer’s) delectation.

We paid a number of visits to the old part of town – the Zona Romantica. Here are some images:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidWe had brunch at a PV institution – Memo’s Pancake House. They make a mean Eggs Benedict!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThis is where the PV fat cats buy their cigars!…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid…and this store in the flea market made me think of The Eagles!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWhat do you think – fella? Hmmm! – time for siesta…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThough I have mentioned The Girl’s connection with Mexico on a number of occasions within these pages I now feel the need to expand a little in that regard. As I have indicated before, Mexico is a favourite haunt for Canadians wishing to escape the rigours of the north American winters. Many of them do so through a similar mechanism as did she – the purchase of a timeshare slot in a resort.

Such a purchase sadly has in common with that of a new automobile the immediate and irretrievable drop in value the instant that it is (metaphorically) driven off the lot. The Girl and her co-purchaser thus found themselves each in possession of half a timeshare, neither part of which has a significant monetary value. It made sense therefore that they should continue to make use thereof in alternate years.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidNow, the way that these things work is that – should one wish to visit a resort other than that in which one has purchased – it is possible to trade ‘points’ for slots elsewhere, as did we in Europe whilst we were still living in the UK. It is also possible to accumulate these points.

All of this by way of explanation of the fact that the first week of our stay here was in the delightful resort in the Marina at Puerto Vallarta in which the original timeshare had been purchased, whilst for the second week we have moved a little nearer to the centre of town to another resort for which The Girl has traded points (being for logistical reasons unable to get two weeks in the same location). All one need know is that both are delightful and that the Mexicans are a wonderfully friendly and positive people.

The Pacific coast of Mexico has much to recommend it, not least of course that – in the week before Christmas – the temperature is in the mid-twenties and the sun is shining. This naturally makes the customary Christmas decoration – with its emphasis on snow and sleighs and suchlike – seem somewhat out of place and it has to be said that this is quite unlike any run-up to Christmas that I have previously experienced.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe staff at the first resort held their Christmas party by the beach on one bosky evening whilst we were there. We peeped, fascinated, from our balcony at the merry-making. They had wisely chosen not to go with a Christmassy theme but settled instead on… pirates!

Aaaarrrrr!

Much fun was clearly had…

 

Another considerable selling point here is the exceptionally good value. Both of the apartments we have inhabited are fully equipped with kitchens (and twin bathrooms!) so we have been able to cater for ourselves, but given that eating out is so reasonable it can be a tough choice to make. Taxis are also very reasonably priced and the fares are fixed and notified before each trip, so there are no unexpected extras and getting around is easy.

Even cheaper are the buses, for which each trip is covered by a fixed rate equivalent to around a (Canadian) dollar for the two of us. The buses themselves are something to be experienced. Not since a visit to India in the 80s has bus travel been such an adventure. The vehicles have an ageless look about them (in much the way that the 50s Beaver floatplanes do in BC, though the latter appear considerably better maintained) and as far as can be told have no suspension at all. As a result the outside lane of each road (being mostly cobbled or paved with small blocks) has a profile not unlike the Rockies!

It seems miraculous that some of these ancient vehicles have not shaken thsmselves apart (or maybe they have and on the edge of town somewhere there is a big broken bus graveyard!). Suffice to say that those with loose fillings should probably stick to the taxis and, though since there appears to be no limit on the number of passengers that can be carried at any time there is little likelihood of ones actually being thrown around the bus, should one take the plunge one should cling on tightly at all times.

I feel inclined to write more about my first visit to this surprising country – and certainly to post more pictures – but my hosting provider has abruptly decided that I may not load further images from here in Mexico. There should – for example – have been a photo of a bus attached to the latter part of this missive…

This will doubtless be a trivial issue to resolve but further postings must needs now follow our return to the chilly coast of BC this weekend.

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