Reconnecting

During my last week in Vallarta (for awhile), I have been fortunate enough to spend it in a suite overlooking the ocean.  Quite a change from living downtown in an overly hot apartment! Blessings to my Californian connection Jonathan for sharing his unused timeshare space with me; and for cheap!  

Being able to just chill for a few days, having said goodbye to most everybody and simply being able to think and watch the ocean from my window, was a nice way to end the journey that has lasted almost 7 months.  But somehow I feel like my journey is just beginning.

I met some nice ladies from California in this hotel/condo and we went for breakfast together at the Lindo Mar, a very pretty hotel up the road in Conchas Chinas.  The breakfast was amazing and so many choices.  I helped them all with the menus and with questions about what kind of food they might be getting if they ordered "divorced eggs".  Yes, that's a type of dish here, one side has salsa roja, the other has salsa verde.  I did all the talking to the wait staff and the ladies loved having someone who knew the ropes.  It felt nice being able to help and also teach them a bit more about the culture than they would normally learn just being a tourist.

I was surprised at how much I really liked helping them with the language, the money, the food, the people, etc.  I'm no expert, but I certainly know a LOT by now, and even I surprised myself.

From eating breakfast at the beach front gay bar/restaurant, I came to know one of the waiters who knows Juan, one of my waiter friends from work.   One day Alejandro invited me and a handful of his buddy waiters in his 4X4 Jeep to the jungle, after work to visit the waterfalls. We seemingly drove forever, (after picking up a carton of beer - 24 for 150 pesos ) up hills, into the country, through the jungle, through 4 river crossings, donkey trails, narrow roads up very high and FINALLY got to our destination:  Las Cascadas.  I don't know exactly the location, but I really thought for awhile that we would never get there.  At the end, we had to go through a barbed wire fence, one by one very carefully.

It was beautiful!  Waterfalls - rushing into a big pool, and then rushing again, into another pool. It was an hour til dusk when we arrived, but it was still hot out and the cool water was a nice reprieve.  We all jumped off the side of the cliff into the deep river and I got carried a little away over the rocks but one of the guys gave me a hand to get out.  Wow, the water is very powerful.  Another group of guys arrived 3/4 of the way through and for a minute I realized that I was the only female in a gathering of about 9 guys.  On the surface it looked crazy, traveling in a jeep over rocks and rivers with guys I hardly knew, drinking beer and listening to stories, in the middle of f---ng nowhere, where NO one knew where I was.  But I didn't dwell on it for long . . .  I totally trusted my one buddy who knew people I knew and mostly throughout the trip I was thinking to myself:  Cool, how many people get to be doing what I'm doing right now?

Sorry I don't have photos - Damn! You'll just have to believe me.

It didn't take long for the carton of beer to disappear and we needed to get back before dark.  The trip was more difficult crossing the bodies of rushing water and rocks from the opposite side, but Alejandro was feeling more confident now about his 4x4 experience.  He'd never taken it off road before.  I told him in Canada we buy 4X4's for a REASON, not just to look macho going over Vallarta's cobblestoned roads.  I really loved being in the jungle, breathing in the lushness of everything; the limes, avocados, hibiscus and enjoying the noisy music of the amazing birds.  We passed some very small and poor villages and dodged donkeys and dogs hanging around the roadside.  The rain, of course started to team down like it always does after sunset, making the roads more challenging than on the way up, when they were already challening enough.  All in all, a cool way to spend the early evening and i was back in my secure and air-conditioned suite with plenty of time to start on my packing.  It was great to connect with nature again.

The next evening, I had the opportunity to go swimming in a tidal pool that seemed like a natural jacuzzi.  My good friend Junior, who works on the dock is a marine biology afficionado as well as lifeguard, lover of the ocean, protector of tortoise eggs, and general wonderful person.  We met at the dock on day long ago,  and began chatting non-stop about everything. I re-connected with him last week when I finally had time and was in that part of the city.  We met one day after his work was finished and connected just as easily as before over a beer.  He is a very spiritual person and being able to talk with him reminded me that I have been feeling very disconnected to nature these past couple of months.  "Pues, conecta-te chica." he urged me and took off his special bracelet that came from his own indian tribe, took my hand and placed it around my wrist.  "This will remind you of what's important and help you when you need it," he told me.  "It's got good energy." I was touched to the point of almost tears.  I have been a bit weepy lately with the thought of yet another ending.  So this day, after our beer, we walked to the dock and watched all the local people fishing from the pier, he told me all the names of the fish that were lying there gasping for their last breath before becoming somebody's dinner.  Nobody needs a boat here to catch fish; they all seemed to be doing a great job tossing their homemade lines off the pier.    Down the beach we went and Junior led me to the swimming hole after taking me on a big walk across the beach, showing me the best views and also a grotto.  He entertained me with stories of how his father used to take him to this same pool and teach him all about marine life.   Junior also recounted stories of his time in the army.  He was in Chiapas during the uprising, had been shot several times and has the scars to prove it.  Also his retinas were burned while he was rescuing people from a fire; his eyes have one little white spot in them each. This small but gigantic-hearted man could have a book written about him.  I was inspired to write while talking to him, but when I brought it up, he said he didn't want to share his stories with the world, just with me.  Hmmm. still it would make an amazing book.

How many people get to sit in a warm ocean with life teaming around them, having true and amazing stories told to them?  And as if that wasn't enough, Junior sang me mexican ranchero songs, and quite well I might add.  He knows ALL the words!

As is the case every night, it started to rain heavily and we just soaked it out in the pool until it started getting dark and I was turning into a prune.  I was actually getting cold!  The walk back was disconcerting in the dark, I actually finally broke my 2-year-old $2 favourite Walmart flip-flops, on my second to last day.   Junior,  barefoot of course, (I don't think he owns shoes), led me step by step; till we finally got back onto the beach.  Everything changes when the darkness appears.   Things you once knew in daylight, take on a whole new ambience in darkness. Junior has lived in Vallarta since he was a small kid and he has a story for everything.  I'm convinced he could feel his way around the beach perfectly if he was blindfolded. I felt privileged that he would share this special place of his with me.  One more Mexican blessing.

Tacos, Tonela Market & Agave Fields

Day two in Guadalajara there's a man in the neighbourhood spouting the hottest news off the press with a stack of papers to sell.  It was a lovely sunny morning and birds were singing.  I heard him from a distance, saying something over and over, getting louder and louder as he approached.  The news is usually always bad in Mexican cities, or at least, as is so often with the press, that only bad news gets attention.  In Guadalajara it is common for kidnappings to take place all over. . . not just with rich people but with anybody; they take a child away or any person and ransom him back for a couple of thousand bucks.  Just the other week, it happened to a young kid and when they ransom money got paid, they found the victim dead anyway.  Drug trafficking, corruption, thievery, scams, lies, and many many vices are all part of if not a very part prominent part of life in a large Mexican city.  So it was to my horror that the words I was hearing from the newsman in the street about how they cut someone's head off although it was breaking news, it was not from Mexico.  No,  It happened in Canada, in a city 4 hours away from my home town; a city where when you mention British Columbia to the people here, they only think of that one place;  Vancouver.  A very bizarre happening, but one that certainly made world news.

On the drive to the small village where my host grew up and where he was taking us all for breakfast, we discussed a few topics and I was ashamed to have this decapitation news so prominently featured.  The funny thing was that all my Mexican friends knew more about the details than I did. . . due to the fact that I don't watch TV, or read papers.  Mexicans love drama.  Some kidnapping stories were brought up and then it got on to corruption and making a living and complaints about the government.

At this village of Santa Maria, we went for breakfast at - you guessed it- a taco shop.  I had tacos al chicharron and also with cactus.  Jorge had tacos al labios (pig lips) and also some chicharron (pig skin).  Damn they were good, regardless of what body part of the pig they were made from.  Que riquisimo!

It was a very dusty little village; from the table in this tiny taco place I could see across the street a big giant pile of corn that had been dumped in front of a store/house and a lady was shucking it all single handedly.   I felt like I was in a 1960 dusty mexican western film.  We stopped by a butcher who Juan Carlos knew. and who gave us sampes of fresh chicharonnes.  The pig is a very useful animal.

Then off to the village of Tonela, where EVERYTHING is made; pottery, textiles, wood, furniture, porcelain sinks, glassware, all things called artanesia.  The prices were amazingly low and I just about lost my mind, prevented by the fact that I didn't have a transport truck readily available.  It did give me some ideas though.  Again, Jorge was very patient and gave me tips and advise.

It was a long day, and we got dropped off at the station for the 5 hour bus ride home without any lunch.  Luckily, I had snacks which I surprised Jorge with right when he was getting miserable about not having eaten.  We watched The Sixth Sense and had the seat with what looked like the only movie screen.  It was fun and one of the best parts of the trip.  We talked and I learned more spanish words, and saw the most beautiful amazing countryside and fields of blue agave which they call Manguey here.  It was spectacular and I only wish we could have gotten off to take decent pictures.  As it was I felt like a goofy tourist taking them through the windows of the bus, but hey, I was a goofy tourist.  We also watched a movie dubbed in Spanish, and it was another learning experience for me.  Jorge is so patient with teaching, and loves to exchange cultural questions with me.

Luckily, I didn't have to use the bus bathroom once.  When we arrived at the station in Vallarta and got off the bus, I was hit with an incredible wave of heat that felt like a giant sack of potatoes landed on me.  It was intense.  The heat had worsened in the last two days here.  Great.   Walking into my apartment that had been closed up for two days was almost as bad.  But luckily, the rain came.  And even though it can certainly ruin plans as well as shoes, I love the rain here.

Guadalajara - Churches, Fountains, Plazas & Poolhalls

Once I had lost my mind in the inexpensive costume jewelry stores (necklaces and earings for 1 dollar) and shoe markets (got a pirated pair of Coach sling backs for 20) we headed out of the centre and into the plaza area.  It was very hot under the sun in the middle of a long plaza that reminded me of Venice.  There was a fountain in the middle and it was surrounded by arched walkways on the sides with shops.  The architecture was delighful; the opera house, the spanish colonial buildings and the cathedral were stunning.  Jorge took me into a Mexican Cantina, which is a beer hall really.  "Are women allowed here?", I asked him.  Of course, he answered, but not usually unaccompanied.  We passed through so I could get a good look.  It reminded me of any small town beer hall; lots of tables and lots of beer and lots of men.  Like a mexican legion!  For my own good, Jorge had me by the waist or with his hand on the back of my neck leading me; as we walked;  this is the very common and typically Mexican way of stating to all who are watching that this woman is not available and in other words; hands off everyone.  Lots of staring was going on.  There aren't a ton of gueras here, not with eyes like mine.  It felt weird, but I was glad Jorge had me by the neck until we exited.  

Thankfully it clouded over and off we continued to get back to the carpark.  Never did find a cheap matching fake Coach bag, but then Jorge was running out of patience so I didn't push it.  Instead, we drove to his son's place and then walked to the billiards hall, so they could visit and we could all play pool.  Ivan is sweet, 19 and a musician.  We placed our bottle of coke on the little platform near the pool table and racked em up.  I never told Jorge I used to have a pool table at home as a teenager.  They played the first game and then I played the winner.  I beat both Ivan and then Jorge, although it was close.  I think Jorge was surprised; and I wasn't about to let him win just to soothe his Mexican ego either. ha.  I love playing pool with guys; it reminds me of playing the game with my brothers when I was young.  And I don't know, it's just so basic and brings everyone down to the same level.  Except when you kick ass and you're a girl. ha.

Guadalajara - San Juan de Dios

A very cool city, and full of wonders.  I met Jorge, my good friend and favourite Blue Shrimp waiter at 2:00 am at the central bus station.  We slept on the bus, well, he did mostly.  I couldn't quiet relax with the incredibly bumpy ride and turns into curves that sent me over the other side of the aisle.  Arriving at 7 am, we waited in the open air station and I was freezing!  Wow, imagine that.  I hadn't been that cold since San Francisco.  With my tights and top and sweater on, it wasn't enough.  

We waited because it was too early to call his friend.  I took a moment to use the bus station bathroom.  It's a thing in mexico and something I'm getting used to: in many public washrooms, they take all the paper out and then a person stands out front and hands you paper for a price; like 5 pesos.  Usually there is no soap and no towels, but you've just paid 50 cents to wipe yourself, which you should consider a blessing.  

When I finally got out of there, Jorge's good friend Juan Carlos had arrived to pick us up in his fancy sports car which he drove like a maniac through Guadalajara to get us to his house.  He and his wife Neoli were kind to put us up in their house.  Jorge tells me that his friend has mucha lana (money)  and for mexican standards having a house with 4 bedrooms is definitely a luxury.

But really, it was a basic house, small and similar to a two storey townhouse with no yard, just a driveway and small back patio to hang laundry and let the dog out.  However, I have never seen a house with a leather sofa, stainless steel oven or walk in closet in the master bedroom.  These are the signs of an above average wage earner.  Jorge wouldn't tell me exactly what his friend works at, only that it might not be completely legal.  I'm getting used to that concept also.  Lots of very nice people are working in areas that are not completely on the up and up.  Making a living is a challenge here in Mexico.  People must be very creative and resourceful to get ahead.

We all had lunch which was prepared by Neoli's mom who was visiting from Mazatlan, and then Jorge and I went off to San Juan de Dios and downtown sites.  He borrowed his dad's car.  Jorge and his family are from Guadalajara.  He moved to Vallarta about 3 years ago because he wanted to be near the sea.  He is an accountant but when he got to his supposed accounting job at the Blue Shrimp, they told him there wasn't really a spot available and would he like to wait tables instead.  Hm..Jorge tells me that was a great shock, after moving all his possessions, wife and baby to a new city for a new job that he finds out isn't there.  So he started waiting tables and loved it.  He makes about the same amount of money being a waiter, and has way more fun.  So much that when an accounting position finally opened up at the restaurant, he decided he'd rather stay on waiting tables and declined it.

I am so fortunate to have a friend like Jorge.  He knows the city, and really wanted me to see the real side of it.  I felt in very good hands.  I had been told so often to be careful in Guadalajara and don't talk to strangers, to watch my bag, etc. etc.  All big cities are dangerous, but I wasn't about to let that stop me.  But with Jorge, I was able to relax. 

He was very patient, while I took in all the sites and incredibly amazing markets wtih so much stuff, I was overwhelmed in minutes.  I could have lost my mind in shoes, handbags, leather, kitchenware, food, fruit, sweets, trinkets, all of it, very very inexpensive.  Caged birds, flowers, clothes, jewelry, pirated labels, music, movies, herbs, witchcraft items, pigs heads, all of it a feast for the senses.

I have this overwhelming desire to have my own place in mexico so I can then buy all the cool mexican things that go into one like a big steel citrus press for fresh juices, a wooden tortilla press, guacamole bowls or mortars that are made from volcanic rock, big clay vases that hold water and are designed to make it cold, such basic simple principles that have been efficient for ages.   And dishes, dishes, dishes! -  all baked clay with the typical same green floral pattern around the rims; also my favourite mexican glass, thick with blue trim.  I could get 12 for 10 dollars.   None of this stuff would probably ever make sense in my country perhaps, but here it is all sublimely perfect. 

We stopped later at a Torta place, a Guadalara speciality.  A torta is like a big hard shelled bread baquette, soft in the middle, that has been filled with carne asada, beef and cooked in a rich tomato spicy sauce.  It's served in a bowl and kind of like a beef dip in the way you have to eat it.  Messy, but damned good.  We ate that along with two glass bottles of coca cola for drinks.  We could watch the people cooking behind the counter and the place was jammed.  Oh, and f you're from Guadalara, then you're called a  Tapatio.  

Sunsets on the Malecon

Summer is a great time for sunsets here.  Because it usually clouds up at night and rains, the sky has some texture and every night is like a new painting.  I met my friend Gustavo for tacos one night and we walked from old town  following the malecon by the ocean and stopping on the big bridge to stand and wait for the sunset.  Every 10 minutes it kept getting better and better.  I really felt lucky to see such beauty every day if I want.

I was also lucky to spend the next day with my little sister Eva, pictured here - whose family came to visit and stayed in a villa at Conchas Chinas.  It was total luxury (as you can tell by the pics) and so welcome.  We hung out by the pool and ate fresh fruit all afternoon, and then a dinner of pasta primavera.  Everyone was so nice to me.  I had to leave early as I needed to get ready to pack for Guadalajara and leave on the bus that night.  More blessings to count.

Bellydance Event

It's hard to leave a place just when things are starting to come along.  The weekend workshop of bellydance was interesting and I met some really nice people, and got to know more of Aisha, who organized it.  She is young, 21 and dances very nicely which I got to see at the Noche Turke last Saturday.  There were a few instructors from Guadalajara, and Monterray and some danced well and some didn't. Some danced too long and some danced too much, and some didn't get to dance at all. A typical Mexican evening of disorganization, but none of it due to Aisha, who worked her buns off getting this all to happen.  But I see it everywhere I go;  the lack of communication when it comes to an event or a happening in town or any kind of gathering.

Regardless of the glitches, we all had fun and that's what counts.  The owners of the dance studio Sylvia and Miguel are some of the most fabulous people I have met, so welcoming and warm.  Pili, a mother of one of the students who I met at the workshop, invited me and my friend to their table and introduced us to all her family.  The event was in De Santos, a chic restaurant with chill lounge on the open air top floor, surrounded by sofas and cushy furnishings and long drapes.  I invited my buddy Miguel, who just  broke up with his girfriend after two months, to come out with me, to take his mind off things.  We sat at a cool white sofa and table. Abdel my surfing buddy, also showed up and sat with us, along with Gabriela who I had just met earlier that evening at a pub with Umberto and had invited her along.   She happened to have worked with Miguel and they knew each other, so what a coincidence.  She is crazy and from DF (Mexico City) In Mexico, they call Mexico City "Distrito Federal", or D F for short.  If you're from there you're a Chilango. 

So, lots of interconnectedness that night and a cool vibe.  The food was lacking but the company was much better.

Photos are of Miguel, me, Abdel, Gabriela and some of Aisha and all of us dancing. One is of Sylvia, Aisha and I, the three bailarinas.

Movies with Marimar

Everyday I am grateful for blessings of friendship.  I have been really enjoying the company of Umberto, my friend who is the staff meal chef in the kitchen of the Blue Shrimp.  He gets a hard time at work because he is gay and small and sweet.  He just takes it and goes about his business, even though I think a lot of people are rude and would love him to stand up and tell them off.  But no.  We have been going out for happy hour occasionally when he finishes at 5.  There's a cool place facing the malacon that has 2 for 1 drinks, a jukebox and free popcorn.  What else does one need?  I have noticed that Umberto can really pack away the beer.  His nickname is Marimar, (after a soap opera character from one of the dramatic mexican telenovelas) and we gab about men, about dreams, about past loves, about music.  It's so nice to be close to a guy and not have any sexual agenda get in the way.  I love him dearly.

We have been to the movies a couple of times and the last time, we chose a mexican film called Defecit.  The directoral debut of Gaen Gabriel Garcia.  It really sucked as a movie but it was awesome as a language tool for me!  Lots and lots of slang and current speech and it was still compelling enough to keep my attention even though it had a dumb ending.  I was so impressed with myself and only had to ask Marimar two questions about the plot.  I have been known to get very lost in plots while watching movies in english!  So, this was cool.

Afterwards, we went to the Mega grocery store, next door to the theatre as I needed a couple of things.  Marimar showed me the procedure to procure baked goods and explained a few things I have always wanted to know about.  Finally, I got to eat churros, something I've been waiting for months to try.  It's a Mexican doughnut, shaped in a long stick with cinnamon and sugar.  Mmm.

We had fun in the grocery store and then saw the most spectacular sunset from the street, it was a ball of fire, very big and something I didn't know actually happened.  I thought big orange balls of sun were only present in romantic unrealistic paintings you seen in the malls.  But it actually happens.  We took the bus and laughed all the way back downtown where we sat out on my balcony, listening to mexican music, drinking cold beer and people watching.

La Noche Turca

I have been fortunate here to meet some wonderful people, even though I don't see them very often.  One of my favourites is Jorge, a waiter at the Blue who used to be an accountant but makes more money, has less stress and has more fun being a waiter.  He's near my age and his wife is expecting their second child.  He is very proud, as are all Mexican men I've discovered, of being able to father children.  It's like some strange badge of honour here.  There is a lot of it going on, as you'll know if you have read my other blogs about the propositions I receive weekly on baby-making. 

Jorge is cool and likes old rock and all interesting music and loves to talk about all kinds of stuff, philosophy, how things are different in other countries, how people are and what makes them tick.  We gab for hours at work when it's quiet.  He used to be an alcoholic and cocaine addict but you'd never know it now.  He seems so squeeky clean. 

Abdel is another fantastic person who I have the privilege of knowing.  We met on the street . . he passes by everyday and finally one night I was on my way to grab some tacos (because the Blue turned cheap and stopped feeding me dinner) and we met on the way and he came along.  He is French/Algerian, born in Paris and has been in Mexico for 15 years.  He has some incredible stories; used to play professional soccer for France, now he is a surfer and is an artist and now paints murals and works as a sometimes waiter.  He knows a thing or two about life and suffering.

It was just by coincidence that I told him about a Turkish Night that my friend David, manager at De Santos restaurant, right beside my work, invited me to.  He passed by while I was working the door last night. Because he's Algerien,  I told him how there will be a Turkish menu, and belly dancers.  He starts telling me about the person who is organizing this thing who his good friend Aisha who is the dancer in town that I have wanted to meet for so long now.  He didn't know I am a bellydancer; I just never got around to telling him.  He was shocked and phoned Aisha right away.  10 minutes later, it was just by coincidence that she was walking by the street we were on!  I got to meet her in person and we bonded right away.  Later she came back when I was eating my dinner and we gabbed for an hour. She's hosting a turkish workshop with, of course, a turkish dancer coming to instruct.  It's very expensive but I want to go and it's this weekend, with the big show being held on the Saturday evening at De Santos.

How cool is that?  All this time, my good friend Abdel is friends with the person who I most wanted to meet in town.  And I would never have known if my other good friend David, hadn't told me about the event.  It's a good thing, having friends.

All these coincidences . . . it is my last week of work, and I was miffed that I couldn't attend the whole bellydance workshop because I am working my last few days.  I got a call today from my manager telling me not to come to work because the immigration dept. is doing a search for illegal workers and if they find me, I could get hauled off to Guadalajara and deported, and of course the restaurant would get a fine.  So that's perfect.  Even though I am out 3 days pay, at least I can now attend the workshop and attend Noche Turka.  Even if its a lie because they don't want to pay me for three days and have already found someone else to replace me I don't really care!  Well, so much for a final send off from the Blue Shrimp. . .  I'm sort of going out with a whimper, but well, onto other bigger things!