In Spanish, "mezcla" means "mixture," and this blog entry is a mixture of things, a digest of small bits that we feel deserve a mention because although they may not be central to our travels, they're fun or interesting or sweet. There are no photos on this posting due to technical difficulties, so we may make another posting soon of una mezcla of only photos...
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We haven't seen many RVs on the highways during these three months of traveling on various Mexican highways and back roads --- in fact, we've gone whole days without seeing another motorhome. We have met more people who drive their RVs -- small, medium, or large -- from Canada or the U.S. to Mexico and stay for a month or two or three at one RV park in a location they like. We've met only a handful of nomads who cruise around as we do, spending one or two nights in any given place before moving down the road.
This winter we've met two young families -- one of whom we'll talk more about in our next post -- who are what Gary calls "long-line travelers" who are spending a whole year on the road. In both cases, the parents are in their late 30s or early 40s: The Swiss family has 2 lovely sons and the Quebec family has 2 lovely daughters. The parents are home-schooling the kids in an international setting, and the kids are learning Spanish organically. Beautiful parents, beautiful kids.
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During the last week, after beach camping at La Saladita (see previous post), we continued up the Pacific Coast of Mexico, spending a blissful two days on Tenacatita Bay. My Seattle friend Lisa was not in residence at her lovely home in La Manzanilla, so we lunched in that sweet town and camped just north of there at Boca de Iguanas, one of the most beautiful beaches we've seen. Most of the Canadian and U.S. RVers who camp here for the winter season have already headed back north, many intending to spend April in the Southwest U.S. on their way. So it's quiet at many of these RV campgrounds. Nice.
Following that, we drove north through Puerto Vallarta, making a Costco stop to buy thick-sliced bacon, pomegranate juice and jars of their famous mixed nuts, among other things. How this shot of familiar U.S. products delighted us! Cheap thrills ... :-)
We stopped for the night at another beach town we hadn't visited before, Lo de Marcos. Sometimes the hype of a guidebook can set you up, and Lo de Marcos was a disappointing experience: a smallish, slanted beach, not easily walkable nor safely swimable. We stayed only one night. On north through the jungly, beautiful coast of Nayarit state to the town of San Blas, where we late-lunched on smoked marlin cooked on a wood-fired grill at a restaurant we remembered from last year.
We drove ahead on coastal back roads, choosing a beach destination on a remote peninsula. We cruised past tobacco fields and pepper farms, where huge piles of red chiles dried on tarps in the sun. Maps can't tell you everything, and when we arrived just before sunset at the beach, we realized we were in a marshy area of mangroves -- potentially buggy -- but it was too late to go anywhere else.
If this passage sounds ominous, it's because I'm recalling a nightmare: That night, hundreds of tiny insects came through the screens of our RV and ate me alive. Gary and I sleep without pajamas, and on warm nights like that one, without covers. I did pull the sheet over my head to avoid what I thought was a tenacious mosquito or two, but I had no idea that multitudes of no-see-ums were inside with us, even under that sheet, feasting on my blood ...
By morning, I had -- by Gary's count -- about 200 bites. Little red bumps from head to toe, back and front, even on my scalp. It looked like a mad case of full-body mini-measles.
Gary had, by his count, about 20 bites that barely registered with him.
There's more that I could say about this experience, but the bottom line is that a medicated talcum powder called Mexana was my best friend and constant companion for the next four days.
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Spring has come to western coastal Mexico. One type of tree we've not yet identified is abloom with pink blossoms; from far away they look like a cherry tree on steroids, and they stand out incredibly on a jungly green hillside. In some higher-elevation places like San Miguel de Allende (see previous postings), the jacaranda trees are exploding with purple blooms, and we regret we can't see spring erupt in multiple places.
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Any of you who read our blog last year may remember that we mentioned developing a big pollo asado (grilled chicken) habit. We've maintained that habit this winter with, we estimate, two pollo asado meals a week, maybe more. If you're just a little late having lunch, and you're driving down the road, and you come upon a little town, and a woman is out there at her grill, and you see and smell the roasted chickens resting on that grill, you just gotta stop.
She expertly cleaves the chicken into pieces and puts the pieces on a styrofoam tray along with tortillas and a little bag of salsa and sometimes a bag of Spanish rice. You give her 60 or 70 pesos (about US$5). You get back in the RV and eat the chicken with your hands, saying between bites, "Ohmigod, this is so good..." Afterwards you wash your hands and face, put the tortillas and salsa and rice in the frig, and you head on down the road, satisfied. Healthy fast food.
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We're fond of the naming conventions for businesses in Mexico. Usually the name consists of two or three words -- the first refers to the type of business, and the second, who it belongs to or where it's located. For example, you might have "Estetica Catalina," which in English would be "Kathy's Beauty Shop"; or "Ferreteria Jaime," which would be "Jim's Hardware"; or "Abarrotes Juana," which is "Jeanne's Corner Grocery Store." "Farmacia El Centro" would translate as "Downtown Pharmacy," and "Gasolina La Curva" would be "Gas Station Where the Highway Curves." We don't understand the system well enough to understand why someone would name a business like one we saw the other day: "Materiales El Pollo" ("The Chicken's Building Supplies").
On the subject of naming: All the puentes (bridges) in Mexico -- from large ones that span wide arroyos to small ones that carry your car over a little creek -- have names that are displayed on small signs at either end of the bridge. Some are obviously named for the town they're near to. It appears to us that others, though, carry names for a feature of the nearby landscape -- for example, Puente Las Higueras (fig trees) or Puente La Cuevita (little cave) -- or what we imagine is a beloved relative of the foreman of the bridge-building crew, such as Puente Tia Lola (Aunt Lola). Some, however, carry names that we can't compute but we love, such as Puente La Hormiga (the ant) or Puente El Tigre (the tiger).
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We took the large ferry from Mazatlan back to La Paz, the capital of Baja California Sur, on Monday -- a smooth overnight crossing -- and spent a few days in La Paz. It's the one-year anniversary of Gary's diagnosis of stomach cancer and his gastrectomy, and his oncological surgeon wanted to run a few tests to see how his health is. As we expected, everything looks good. Que bueno!
Next: Going home....
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