Category: Puerto Vallarta

Another “weird” Day in Puerto Vallarta

Weird day. I took the bus to Wal-Mart. Wrong idea. Nothing at all of interest. Next door is the Vallarta Mall. Less of interest there. I need tank tops. How could they not have decent tank tops? Everything is extremely air conditioned. I started to feel sick, so I got out of there.

At least I saw where the cruise ships dock right across the road and walked straight into heavily armed military guys who looked to me like teenagers.

Where the cruise ships dock.

In order to catch my bus home, I have to pass thru Old Vallarta so I decided, of course, why not go to the beach. I was getting hungry and as is my wont, I started asking where the good comida corrida is. After walking blocks and blocks, I was getting parched. I saw inside a building alot of tables with no tourists, just locals. There was no sign but a placard that said, Comida Corrida, $65 pesos. That’s a little over $4.00 USD. Soup, shrimp fajitas, salad, beans, rice, agua fresca and dessert. Now that’s what I’m talking about.

Then for a long hot walk on the beach. I was parched again and needed to get out of the sun so again I stopped at a place with no name, broken chairs, worn out umbrellas, and desperate beach guys waving menus. I was at the end of my energy, so gratefully sat at a table and ordered 2X1 mojitos. It was taking so long for them to come, I almost left.

Soon handsome beach guy, Armando, came with my drink. He was not young but was probably approaching 50 but extremely handsome. He carefully stirred and stirred the best mojito I’ve had to date. We chatted for awhile and I learned that he sleeps at the place.

A “cafe” outside of these tourist zone

While I watched a large group of really big, heavily tatooed men with women and children playing in the water, drinking and talking, I found myself thinking that the guys had hydraulicly operated hot rods with amazing paint jobs and guns and knives and that they loved their wives, girlfriends and kids. Its amazing what stories I can make up out of stereotypes.

Well, so as not to make this story any longer than it already is, while drinking my second mojito, Armando ended up massaging my right shoulder, sending healing energy into it and declared that I had a piece of metal in there (which I do) but that he could heal me. I’m suppose to go back tomorrow.

I don’t know, maybe I’ll go back, or maybe I’ll have a facial.

Juan and Juan Manuel and my Roof

While living in Mexico, I learned what the rainy season really is. We’re talking rain so thick, so heavy, so hard that it comes through the roof.

We’re talking thunder so loud and that lasts so long that I swore that it alone could kill me.

And the lightening. Lightening that lights up the world every bit as bright as daylight.

We’re talking the jungle itself being torn away and swept into the streets… torrents of water carrying trees, and plants that wash down from the hillsides, into the streets and into the ocean turning it into a swirling brown mass of debris.

The only thing to do was to climb onto the bed, open the balcony doors and watch the show. Sometimes the storms would last so long that my nerves would shatter.

Geckos and insects would come in to shelter on the walls and take cover in the corners of the ceiling.

And then it would be over as quickly as it started. The heat persisted because the rainy season happens in summer… 100° and 100% humidity. Was it refreshing? No.

Always sweating, always wet. It was too hot and wet for hair, for jewelry, for underwear. Earrings would heat up and burn my neck. I cut off my hair to the scalp. And underwear? What for?

My roof leaked. Not leak like I could catch water in buckets, but water that stood inches deep that I sloshed out and off the balcony and into the street with a broom.

I’d had enough: I called Juan Manuel to fix my roof.

Juan Manuel sent Juan Manuel and Manuel to fix my roof. Meanwhile, Juan came. I thought Juan was sent by Juan Manuel but he wasn’t. I had to send Juan away. So Juan Manuel and Manuel fixed my roof. Sorry Juan for the confusion.

I don’t know who sent Juan.

True story.

When it rains, it pours and roars and throws out spears of lightning.

It’s Rainy season in Puerto Vallarta

The first time I experienced a thunderstorm in PV, I thought that if thunder could kill I’d be dead. It literally shakes the windows and your bones. These storms are like nothing I’ve ever seen.

At night the sky lights up and the entire world is like daylight and all things are in sharp contrast. It truly is unbelievable.

And the rain, the sky opens up and sheets of rain come down as if you’re under a waterfall. Truly fantastic storms… and it’s hot. Temperatures are in the 90s and the 100s with 100% humidity. Truly spectacular.

The ocean turns brown and fills with jungle debris from torrents running out of the hills; all the dry gullies rush with water and floating garbage. The jungle creeks fill to overflowing and merge with the water filling the gutters in the streets. Then it’s over.

Everything is soaked, the strong sun comes out and the evaporation begins and within minutes everything dries out but the air. Then you’re left with 200% humidity and you’re soaked in sweat.

And that’s how it is in the rainy season in Vallarta.